No Way To Spend A Vacation
by LadyNRA
Summary: The Jupiter 2 lands on a planet for a brief respite from the confines of the ship and find the natives are not exactly friendly.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **No Way To Spend A Vacation

**Author:** LadyNRA

**Rating**: T - Given for some minor violence/gore and suggestive situations

**Spoilers**: None that I can think of

**Characters**: Everyone in the J2 crew although the Robot doesn't have much to do.

**Genre**: Action/Adventure

**Disclaimer**: The folks who created LIS, pure geniuses that they are, are responsible for everything on the show. I'm just having fun with the characters. They were spending entirely too much time cooped up on the Jupiter 2 or stranded on barren planets and it was time to set them free for a little while on a lush world with native inhabitants.

**Summary**: The Jupiter 2 lands on a planet for a brief respite from the confines of the ship and find the natives are not exactly friendly.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to Lostinspacefan for the beta read. This story was written about 12-14 years ago. It sat and sat completed but not proof read all this time until LISfan saw it and suggested I put it up on this site, so here it is…

**No Way To Spend A Vacation**

By LadyNRA

"Uhhhh-huh-huhhhhhh," an open mouth yawned loudly from the small stateroom belonging to Zachary Smith, the Jupiter 2's resident stowaway. "Oh, how gauche! Excuse me my dear," the doctor added, self-mockingly, with a vague wave of his recently manicured hand.

That hand swooped down to select a pawn from the chessboard, and he moved it diagonally to capture his opponent's rook.

"Drat!" hissed the beautiful blonde seated across the small folding table from him. She watched him idly pick at a minuscule strand of cuticle that was ruining the near perfection of her work. If she lost one more game to him she was going to be giving the middle aged doctor a pedicure, and she really, _really _had no desire to do that. It was true that he was more fastidious than Don, but older feet were still…well, older.

Smith yawned once more, not bothering to cover his mouth. Judy, the Robinson's eldest daughter, didn't deign to even notice. After years of living in close quarters, rude noises, poor manners, and odious bodily emanations went by without comment because it simply wasn't worth maintaining decorum with people one knew so intimately.

From around the corner, Will Robinson, bordering on his 'teenage' years, peeked at the game in progress and shook his head with a wry smile. Judy was going to face checkmate in 3 moves if she wasn't careful. He was tempted to help but if there was one thing he knew, it was that, even with the threat of having to do a pedicure on fifty year old feet, Judy would never allow him to assist her. The longer they had been in space, the more stubborn she had gotten in some areas, and this was one of them.

The truth was, for reasons even she couldn't fathom, she had sworn to beat Smith at this game. Outside of Will and the Robot, no one had ever beaten him. Not even her own father, though John Robinson really had as little to do with Smith as possible under other circumstances.

Looking at the doctor, she caught the smug smile. She was losing big time. She knew it. And she couldn't figure out how to change the outcome. Suddenly, she hoped Smith's feet weren't sweating inside his boots. Mentally swatting the thought aside, she made her move.

Behind her, she heard Will groan. As she turned to catch his eye, she also saw Smith swoop over, move his queen and state, haughtily, "Check!"

Overwhelmed by frustration, she made a crazy move that neither of the males expected. Two sets of eyebrows, one graying, and one reddish blond, raised toward the ceiling.

"What are you doing, my dear?" Smith asked incredulously. It wasn't like her to just throw the game, no matter how badly she was losing, which was all the time.

"I give up!" she muttered. Then she stretched out one slender hand. "Hand it over!"

Smith's brows, previously skyward, came together over the bridge of his nose. "Excuse me?"

"The foot!" Judy snapped uncharacteristically. "Hand over the foot, and let's get this over with!"

Instead of offering the requested appendage, Smith leaned toward her, until their faces were only twelve inches apart, and murmured, "Are you sure that's what you really desire?"

The very suggestiveness of the tone popped open the blonde's eyes. In all their days together, cooped up in that little space vessel, Smith had never made the slightest innuendo. High praises certainly, debonair gestures most definitely, even some playful teasing designed to irritate Don, but never, ever, anything remotely resembling a genuine "pass". In response, her jaw dropped.

For a second she was speechless, until she saw the minutest upturning of his thin lips. He was playing with her. At first, she was tempted to get really angry, but then the ire drained away in a wild rush, and she found herself laughing.

Still standing behind her, Will just shook his head in disgust. "Grownups!" he muttered, as he stalked toward the Robot, who was standing watchfully in the corner. "And it's worse when they're sisters too!"

"Boy, you said it," the robot chimed in, not meaning a word of it, but knowing that Will needed a youthful brand of sympathy at the moment.

"At least they aren't playing Strip Chess," the Robot added once William had gone to the upper deck in search of his father.

"Then my husband would be forced to kill him," Maureen Robinson said with a sweet smile, as she sat mending a torn tunic. She didn't really mind the wagering that Smith and Judy had set up lately. At least it had added some diversion from the star hopping that had gone on for three very long, and equally boring months. Fortunately for the doctor, she hadn't heard his last comment, or she would have killed him herself.

Glancing at the cabin, she heard the metallic hiss of a zipper being opened, and a sigh of pleasure from the doctor. Despite herself, she cringed slightly, and then leaned over far enough to glance into the open cabin. With relief, she saw Judy slipping off one of Smith's black boots.

Soon her thoughts were back on the tedious routine of their days. It had been some time since they'd been aboard the Gaelorian Gem for their last vacation. Then they had returned to the never-ending blackness of space, and the never varying sand and scrub brush of several worlds. They'd refuel, get out long enough to stretch their legs, scout the terrain for any potentially useful supplies, and then venture off in the vastness of space again.

Accompanied by the sound of sloshing water and a male baritone voice murmuring an occasional 'aaahhh' of delight, Maureen went in search of her husband.

As expected, she located her husband, son, and Major Don West in front of the large viewscreen staring at the same dark emptiness that she had seen for weeks. Only an occasional and very distant star flickered in the distance.

"Hello dear," Maureen said, as she drew up behind her husband's command chair. Lightly she massaged his shoulders. John reached back to lovingly pat her hand, then clasped her fingers gently in his.

"Everything okay down below?" he inquired absently, as if it was more for conversational purposes than out of real curiosity.

"As well as can be expected. Penny is napping. Judy lost another chess game to Dr. Smith. "

John shook his head slowly. "And what was the wager this time?"

"A Pedicure," she supplied with a roll of her blue eyes. "I think they are running out of things to wager. She has already served him breakfast in bed, done a manicure, mended some of his clothes, and gave him a shave and haircut. I can't wait 'til she realizes she's never going to beat him at his own game, and give up on it."

"Boredom can do strange things to people," Don sighed. Much as he would have liked to wring Smith's neck for manipulating Judy, he had vowed to stay out of it. The quarters were too tight to spend every day arguing over inanities. As long as Smith didn't get any funny ideas over 'his woman', he was content to just sit back and leave her alone in her quest to best the doctor. He reminded himself that after three years in space, Smith appeared to have respected the family enough to ignore the beautiful blonde, except when he was manipulating her into getting involved with one of his typically unsuccessful schemes. So, for the moment, he relaxed.

John fixed his wife with warm brown eyes. "We are following the star charts we got from the 'Gem' and, so far, we appear to be on course. According to my calculations, and barring mishap, we should be approaching a planet suitable for us to land and …"

"Take care of the usual?" Will asked ingenuously.

"Right, the usual. Fuel, food – - "

"A swim in a lake?" Will queried, ever hopeful that the next landing will provide them with a more earthlike planet.

John tousled his son's reddish hair. "Sure, after it's been checked thoroughly for anything dangerous."

Will's smile drooped instantly. "There's always something dangerous, Dad. Seems like there's never a decent place to set down that doesn't have space dragons, space werewolves, space demons, space - "

"Okay, okay, we get the idea. But please, son, don't sound like Smith when you try to get the point across."

"Sorry," the boy said ruefully, "Couldn't help myself."

John laughed for the first time that day. "That's okay, I understand perfectly. But the good news is that this planet promises to be more earthlike than any we've seen since we landed on that rainforest planet."

"You mean the one with all those worms under the surface?"

"That's the one, but there was nothing in the star charts to indicate this planet's surface can't be traveled. Still you will need to be patient until I am sure that there are no carnivores big enough to eat little boys."

Will smirked. "Oh Dad, that's never stopped me before."

"Don't I know it!" John chuckled. Without another word he turned back to the darkness before them, gazing into space as if he could already see the planet they were searching for.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Later that evening, or what passed for evening based on the ship's chronometers, the family had a meal together. Judy, in a foul mood, had whipped up a cake, and was serving the first piece to a smiling Smith. She sat down next to Don and sighed loudly.

"So Professor," Smith said without preamble. "Rumor has it that we are bound for a fairly hospitable planet this time."

"No rumor, Doctor, we are on our way."

"Any information on it?"

"Tropical supposedly, earthlike atmosphere, drinkable water, many plants and animals, most of which should pose no threat. The chart provided no other information."

Smith leaned back in his seat, and patted a slightly rounded stomach contentedly. "Ah, a tropical paradise. How lovely! I was just thinking about how much I would enjoy another vacation."

Don leaned forward, and pointedly glared at Smith. "Don't even think about a vacation." He jabbed a straight finger at the doctor's nose. "You will be working along with the rest of us, or I'll be sure to throw you to those space monsters you are always talking about."

"Indeed!" Smith sniffed irritatingly. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," was the succinct response.

The two men stared unblinking at one another for the better part of a minute, before Smith broke the contact. The evil light in the Major's eyes told him he'd better not push it. Therefore, he'd play along until they landed and then make good his 'escape' at the first opportunity. He'd find himself some nice little cove or hidden meadow, set up a hammock and just blissfully rock himself to sleep.

They made planetfall right on schedule two days later. The ship settled quietly into the lush grasses of a small clearing in the midst of impossibly tall, slender, broad-leafed trees. After a preliminary scan of the air, John opened the hatch and climbed down the stairs. Laser pistol in hand, he hastily scanned the clearing. He placed one foot on the bluish green grasses, and hastily withdrew it. Nothing disturbed the surface, no creatures from below tried to swallow his foot whole.

Looking at the tree line he noted the tree dwelling beasts, but also saw a myriad of small mammals and reptiles wending their way through the thick undergrowth. John heaved a loud sigh. At least this wasn't going to be like the last jungle world they'd been on where the carnivores lived below ground level, preying upon the unfortunates that happened to topple out of the tree tops.

After a brief reconnaissance of the area, he returned to the lower deck and found the rest of his party eagerly awaiting the words declaring the place safe to explore a bit more thoroughly.

"So far, it looks safe enough. You can go out and stretch your legs," he assured them. "However, I don't want anyone wandering from the clearing for now. As soon as I'm certain it's safe to settle in for a short while right here, we'll lower the Jupiter 2 to ground level and set up the access ramp. Don, Smith, give me a hand getting the force field generator checked out."

Smith opened his mouth as if to protest the orders but shut it again with an audible snap once he saw the look in Robinson's eyes. Sighing, he gestured his acknowledgment but continued with formulating his own plans, none of which involved that ugly four-letter word – work.

The most work he actually did do was to watch West and Robinson unloading the necessary outdoor gear to a spot not more than 15 feet from the viewscreen. Yet, he was ever hopeful that their attention would be so focused on their task that he would be able to slip away without them even noticing he was gone.

As it turned out, Don and John kept such a close watch on him that he didn't have a blessed moment to himself unless he was in his cabin or in the head. He covertly attempted to leave the perimeter, but the robot's sensors were far too good to be fooled and the warning was always given. Only after John literally locked him in his cabin for a full day, did Smith finally surrender and give up trying to take off. Though he looked at his incarceration as a reprieve from doing chores, it was no better than being cooped up in the ship while still out in space. He craved a bit of sunshine, and grew desperate enough for those pink rays to actually help out, if only to get himself outside for a while.

Several days later, John found what he was looking for. A fairly good size deutronium deposit about four miles from the ship. A long trek, but not so far as to be terribly inconvenient. Provided, of course, that the local denizens of the jungle left them alone during the trek. Finally, after much preparation, John loaded up several small backpacks with various pieces of testing equipment, handed out laser pistols to Don and Smith, who reluctantly strapped it on, and then passed out the machetes.

"Hey, wait a minute," Judy called. "I'm coming with you." She was also carrying a small pack, and a canteen.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I think it's best if you stayed here, where you'll be safer."

"Forget it Dad! I'm tired of being left behind, and being treated like I have nothing to contribute. I'm coming along."

Suddenly Will and Penny piped in, "Yeah, me too!"

John looked at his wife imploringly but she merely crossed her arms, smiled sweetly and said, "Great, a family outing. Wait a few minutes, and I'll pack enough food for all of us."

Smith got ready to drop his machete in the grass. "Ahh. Familial bliss. How wonderful. You obviously don't need me now, so I think I'll just – "

"What you'll do, Smith, is stand right there and wait until Maureen is finished. And after that, you will take the first leg of cutting through the jungle."

Color rose angrily beneath Smith's lightly tanned complexion. "Me, sir? You cannot possibly expect me to take the forefront of this expedition. I have no idea where I am going, and with my heart being what it is, all that hacking and slashing will likely be the death of me."

John glared back. "Cut it, Smith. I didn't buy that 'bad heart' bit years ago and I don't buy it now. And don't even think of mentioning your bad back – "

"But it's a disaster area today," Smith whined fretfully. He knew the ploy wasn't going to work, but habit forced him to it anyway.

Don piped in, "Well, I have a wonderful solution. Hard work. Builds up weak back muscles you know." And having finished his explanation, Don grabbed Smith's sleeve and propelled him toward the perimeter. "In fact, John, what do you say about the good doctor getting a start right now, while you wait."

"Why Don, what an excellent suggestion," John grinned.

Don returned the grin. "I knew you'd like it."

"Would either of you like to know what I think?" Smith hissed as he turned once more to face them.

"No!" the other two men said in perfect unison. Don shoved Smith hard enough to propel the older man toward the forest.

Angrily gnashing his teeth, the doctor yanked the machete out of the canvas scabbard and took an angry swipe at the thick foliage. It split with a satisfying crack, and limbs toppled to the ground. Smith envisioned the Major's leering face before him, and each succeeding blow of the blade sent brush flying in every direction. Behind him, Don dropped back slightly, as if reading the doctor's mind. Though he never seriously entertained the thought that the typical cowardly Smith would turn on him, an enraged and armed Smith might be another matter. He had no intention of antagonizing him far enough to finding out.

Smith had cut about 400 yards in to the forest when the rest of the Robinson party joined up with them. By then, Smith was soaked with perspiration and panting from his efforts.

"My arms feel like lead," he said between gasps. "I simply cannot swing this thing one more time."

"Let a pro show you how it's done," Don smiled widely, and began to whack at the trees with a vengeance.

Deeper and deeper the group plunged into the jungle, with John taking over from Don when the young pilot had finally grown weary. When Smith's turn came again, Don had to fetch him bodily from the back of the line, but by then the doctor was far too miserable to put up much of a fight. His anger at the major long since petered out, he drove himself forward by sheer force of will. And then, as if by magic, the last branch dropped from before them and another clearing appeared.

Even more surprising was the animal trail leading off in the general direction they wanted to travel.

"What a stroke of luck," Don crowed happily.

"Indeed," Smith said morosely. "For you perhaps, but not for me. I had to do all the work thus far!"

Don looked like he was preparing to challenge the statement, but thought better of it. He'd gotten his enjoyment out of forcing some hard labor out of Smith, and was ready to simply reach their final destination.

The group trudged through brush and clearing, more brush and a meadow, then more thick foliage. As John hacked through the barrier into another clearing, the rest of his family and crew surged up behind him, literally pushing him into the sunshine…and face to face with an ugly dogfaced visage. The creature was furred, taller than John, though not as thickly muscled, and sported a crest of brightly colored bristles atop a somewhat pointed skull. The startled expression, if that wide-eyed expression actually was shock, caused the bristles to quiver wildly.

Human and alien stood stock still, facing each other for better than thirty seconds. With a covert gesture of one hand, John signaled his crew not to move. The decorations attached to the bristles and the scanty garment around furred loins told him that the creatures were, at the very least, marginally intelligent, and he didn't want to provoke some aggressive act until he had to time to measure up the opponent a little better.

As it turned out, the creature wasn't willing to take them all on. Instead, it whirled, and with a distinctly masculine sounding shout, barreled across the narrow meadow.

"This is not encouraging," Smith whispered hoarsely into West's ear.

"Smith, if I didn't dislike you so much, I'd actually agree with you." He grabbed John's sleeve and tugged backward on it.

John lithely whirled around and began to shepherd the group back the way they had come. Silently, he sent a prayer skyward that their visitor would leave well enough alone and not come in pursuit.

His prayers, unfortunately, went unanswered, or perhaps the answer itself was 'no'. In either case, they hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile, when the brush rustled around them, and sharp, ebony spear points, followed by furry bodies, surrounded them.

"Figures," Smith muttered irritably. "If there's life anywhere in the proximity of where we land, it is inevitably going to hunt us down, takes us prisoner, and do nasty things to our bodies for the sheer joy of it!"

Don looked at the sharp ebony tips aimed their way, and wondered if Smith's dire predictions were about to come true. To keep the others from panicking, he calmly retorted, "Ever the optimist, eh Smith?"

As if to prove the doctor right, a spear came up to throat level and hovered within an inch of West's skin. Another one angled angrily into the hollow just below Smith's ear, as if preparing to cut him ear to ear. He could hear the doctor gulp audibly.

Wisely, Smith kept any further comments to himself.

One of the creatures snatched their machetes from them and handed the long thick blades to another scowling alien beside him. Then, in a lightning quick gesture, it snatched John's ever-present pistol from the holster, before bolting back out of reach.

"I wouldn't pull that trigger if I were you," John said pointedly as one long-fingered hand got too close to that part of the weapon. He knew the creature didn't understand a word of what he said, but hoped the subtle warning tone in his voice would cause some hesitation.

The alien's coarse haired eyebrows collided into each other, as he pierced Robinson with a fierce glare, but its finger slid away from the trigger. Instead it tossed the weapon to the same being holding the machetes.

With easily understood gestures, the aliens let the humans know what was required of them next. That was simply to turn around and start marching.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

John estimated they walked for nearly two miles along a narrow, winding trail nearly hidden by thick, blue and tan hued foliage.

A faint scent of smoke, and badly burned meat, assailed their nostrils as they emerged into a small heavily trampled meadow. Small lean-tos had been erected, and covered with a layer of broad leaves. Aside from their escort of five aliens, three more of the lean beings strolled around the camp, packing up their meager belongings. A fourth creature was relieving himself by a nearby tree and it was embarrassingly obvious that their captors were male.

In a huddle off by the perimeter, another group of the creatures, also male, were cringing in a tight group, and gazing fearfully at the free creatures. Their wrists were bound tightly by some sort of woven band, and each male was also bound to another, so that all were joined.

John and West scanned the clearing in hopes of finding a means of escape but it was no use. Their captors weren't about to let their guard down. In fact, within several minutes, the Robinsons, West, and Smith were similarly bound and joined together. Their packs were searched, amidst much chattering and gesticulating, but the equipment was, surprisingly, left inside the bags unmolested.

With the butts of several spears, the captors whacked the legs and backs of their fellow beings until the cowering group managed to struggle to their long toed feet. As they were guided toward a more distant break in the foliage, Smith realized they were not only captives but also heading in the wrong direction from the safety of the Jupiter 2. Instinct made him try to back away from the group but a sharp spear point entering his gluteus maximus quickly convinced him to remain with the group.

Prisoners and guards trudged through the forest for what seemed like hours. The guards whacked or pricked slackers unmercifully. The humans avoided most of the abuse. Seeing the surreptitious glances the aliens were giving them, he assumed that the guards weren't taking any chances with riling the newcomers. The few times he tried to talk to Maureen, who walked behind him, he got warning stabs with the spears but otherwise they left him alone.

Just when the humans felt as if they couldn't go on without a break, the most aggressive of the males called for a halt. Water was passed around but no food. At the first opportunity, John slipped one hand into his pack, and pulled out a small stone.

West recognized it as the translation device used on the Gaelorian Gem. He took it and covertly slipped it into his ear canal. Soon, six additional stones were produced, and covertly slipped into human ears.

"Always planning ahead, huh John?" West quietly quipped, though his voice held admiration because it wasn't often that he could catch Robinson unprepared for anything.

"You bet," John agreed in a voice barely above a whisper. "After all the lifeforms we've met around this galaxy, I figured these might come in handy, even on a supposedly 'uncivilized' planet. Now I'm glad I brought them along. They may not be able to understand us, but hopefully we can understand them."

He was startled by a loud, gruff bark of noise, and simultaneously there was a sharp command. "Shut up!"

The alien guard backed away to talk to his cohorts for a few more minutes, then took a swig of water from a jug, and crudely stuffed a wad of greasy stuff that looked like whale blubber into his sharp toothed mouth. A long black tongue licked the slimy substance that dribbled down his chin.

And then the whole procession started forward again.

John watched the other prisoners as best as he was able, sizing them up, and judging them too downtrodden to start any sort of rebellion. Equally obvious, the guards kept their captives weak from hunger and thirst.

Still, they plunged on at a nearly unmerciful pace. Then John noticed it, a slight decline in the terrain, as if they were heading downhill. Unfortunately the reprieve was too little, too late. Little Will, struggling to keep up with longer legged adults fell into a pile of brush, gasping for breath. Maureen rushed to his side, pulling the rest of them with her since they were still bound together. Smith moaned, and his ragged breath sounded unnaturally loud in the narrow confines of the trail.

"Got to rest," he panted, and flopped down into a sitting position on the ground. Unfortunately, his sudden move dragged Judy down with him.

Losing her balance completely, she landed hard on top of Smith, forcing him over backward so that his head banged against the hard, packed earth. Awash with intense embarrassment, she realized his face was covered by her upper body. Judy expected an immediate attempt on his part to get her off him, but that didn't happen. Red faced, she gave him a scathing look which was wasted since he couldn't see it, then quickly pulled herself free of the compromising position. She moved away so quickly that Smith didn't have the time to wipe the subtle smile from his lips. "Time to call it quits in chess," she told herself, "before the wagers get out of hand."

As though he heard her unspoken thoughts, he gave her a disappointed frown. Not that she needed to worry. Smith would have admitted, at least to himself, to being a jerk in certain circumstances, but moving in on another man's girlfriend had always been morally taboo as far as he was concerned. Ruefully, he let her get up, and, after catching the look on Don's dark visage, was immediately glad of his decision.

Suddenly, the butt of a spear whacked solidly into Smith's ribs. The doctor yelped in surprise, not to mention pain, and hastily withdrew from the next jab. Grabbing his aching side with one hand, he pivoted toward his adversary and immediately began to back away. John's hand planted itself firmly on his back, then grabbed a fist-full of his tunic and rudely jerked him aside. Without letting go of Smith, who wisely stifled a nasty comment, John interposed himself between the alien and his crew member, but made no threatening gestures.

The creature's crest bobbed like a furious multi-legged spider, and he drew back lips to reveal sharp, decaying teeth. Then, as if this threat was all that was necessary, it made a dismissive gesture and turned away from the humans.

The entire group plodded onward for most of that day, then camp was once more set up in a small glade. The captive aliens, still bound together, were taken to a large tree and secured there. The human prisoners were secured to a companion tree near them.

After the guards had eaten, water was passed around. "Keep your canteens full for now," John advised as he passed the ladle to Maureen, who took a sip and passed it on to Judy. The ladle made the full circle, with Smith polishing off the two mouthfuls that were left.

"Still thirsty," he muttered irritably, but made no effort to tap his canteen for the much desired water. "What if they feed us, Professor? Are we to ignore the food?"

John nodded. "Until we test it, we have no idea if it will make us sick."

"And how do you propose we perform the necessary tests when our equipment is well out of reach?"

Ignoring the sarcasm in Smith's tone, Robinson placidly advised his crew, "Since they haven't taken the packs from us, the food Maureen and Judy brought should still be okay. We can have some of that now, but eat sparingly because we may have a bit of a wait before we can sneak out of here tonight, and we'll need food for the return trip."

"You have a plan?" West leaned close to whisper the question.

"Nothing more than hoping they don't have many guards tonight. If we're lucky, they will get lazy and doze off. That will be the time to make a break for it. It also means that we'll need to take turns staying awake and watchful. Maureen and the children have had a hard day. I suggest we let them recoup their strength…don't even say it Smith, and since your name has just come up, you'll take the last watch, because I _know_ you're likely to fall asleep as well. If we can't make a break by the time you take over, it will probably be too late anyway."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Professor," Smith commented in his most insulted tone of voice.

"Get off your high horse, Smith, you and I both know he's right," replied Don.

Smith responded with a faint 'harrumph' but made no further comment to West. Instead, he reached a hand toward Maureen. "Food, if you please, Madam. I am simply famished after all this trekking across the countryside."

Maureen gazed once at her husband, and saw John's faint nod of approval. Slowly, so as not to arouse the suspicions of their captors, she slid out enough sandwiches to give them all one.

The Jupiter 2 crew ate their dinner in silence, while their captives, snarling and loudly chomping away, finished their own meal. It wasn't until after the guards finished their repast, which Smith said smelled worse than burning hair, that the captives and humans were offered the left-overs. The captives devoured it as though they hadn't eaten in days, which John had quickly surmised was probably the case.

When the guards brought some over to them, John did not refuse it. He took the few small blackened chunks of meat, clearly inedible by human standards, and several fruits that looked like tiny pineapples, and hurt nearly as much when he tried to get a better look at what was inside. As he opened it, tiny white insects, swarming around the pulp, started to scamper over John's hand. Instinctively, Robinson dropped the fruit, and swatted the insects off his skin. With a grimace of disgust, he tossed all of the fruit into the group of captives, who dove greedily onto the food.

"That was a truly nauseating experience," Smith murmured.

"Boy, you said it," Will agreed with great conviction.

While the captives fought amongst themselves, Robinson tossed the meat their way as well.

Within a hour, everyone was settling in for the evening. All the captives were quickly unconscious due to their extreme exhaustion and profound hunger. Not long after that, sleep captured the Jupiter 2 members, except for John who had lay down like everyone else but was maintaining surveillance on their captors.

The guards also prepared to bed down for the evening, except that instead of placing only one guard over the captives, they positioned one around each perimeter. The last one not only watched the forest but the prisoners as well. As John watched patiently, one hour passed, then two, and still the guard appeared alert. In fact, by the time Don's turn came, it was very late, and the guard was still wary and wide awake.

To add insult to injury, the guards swapped places not long after Don's watch began, so that by the time Smith's turn came, he knew that there would be no escape for them that night.

Cautiously, pretending to have just awaken for the benefit of the guard, he nudged John, and filled him in on the developments. With a mild expletive that was barely audible, he gestured for Don to sleep. Groaning softly, as much in disgust as stiffness, Don rolled over, pillowed his head on his arm, and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the guard's shouting roused them from the stuporous sleep of the stressed-out to dazed wakefulness.

"No one woke me! I swear it!" Smith cried in alarm when he realized it was dawn.

"Smith! Calm down!" West hissed. "I let you sleep. They were watching us too carefully to try getting away."

Smith closed his eyes and heaved a forceful sigh. "That's a relief! I mean, I'm…uh…I mean, I am relieved that our continued captivity is not my fault. I'm glad I'm not to be blamed for this."

"Will wonders never cease," Don said with a smirk. "A blameless Zachary Smith is a fluke of nature if ever there was one!"

"You! Shut up!" came a shout from the nearest guard. "On your feet, all of you. It is time to move out."

Guards and captives struggled to their feet, groaning and twisting out the kinks in stiff muscles. One guard came by and passed around another ladle of water. Once they were finished, everyone resumed their march through the jungle.

And march they did. Hard and fast for several hours. By midmorning they had already covered several additional miles. The scent of jungle flora was slowly being corrupted by the tang of sea air. Soon, the air was thoroughly permeated by the swiftly blowing, pungent scent of ocean breezes.

They broke out of the tree line and onto clean, opal hued beaches. Before them, not more than three hundred yards away was a collection of crude, weather-beaten buildings. A small inhabited village to be more exact.

A short distance from the village, a dilapidated and exceedingly ancient wharf jutted out from the beach. At the end of this wobbly and warped structure stood what could easily have passed for a wide bottomed Viking sailing vessel, the tall mast, placement of the square sail and rigging similar to earth ships. A long row of oars ran from stem to stern along the port side for most of the length of the ship. Several shaggy heads could already be seen seated before the oars, bunched into a small group.

Robinson and West slowed down but the gathering of filthy gaunt bodies behind them pushed them along as if they were mere gnats to be brushed aside. Growls and snarls of pain rose up like a writhing cobra when a whip started to crack on unprotected backs from somewhere behind the group. Smith moaned with dawning realization that they were being herded toward the ship. He gave a futile and almost painful tug on the ropes binding his wrists. The knots only tightened further.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Too tired by the arduous trek through the winding mountain trail, most of the aliens, as well as the entire Robinson party had lost the strength to make a dash for the forest bordering the beach. Robinson, by far the strongest of the crew, couldn't have made it even if his arms had been unbound. He suspected the archers among the guards could easily have loosed a shaft into his back before he got half way to the perimeter. And he would never have deserted the rest of his family in either case. John glanced left toward Don and saw weariness deepening the sockets of the Major's dark eyes.

Some of the villagers, as if suspecting the thoughts of some of the prisoners, stood in a straggly line on either side of the trudging column of people. Some of them pointed and gawked at the humans, whispering among themselves in their sibilant speech. Snatches of words were translated through the ear plug style translators each Jupiter 2 crewmember still wore. What they heard was harsh and ugly...cruel words stemming from a cruel lifestyle. The few children, taller than human children of a similar age, and excruciatingly skinny, like their parents, hurled rotten vegetables and pieces of offal at the passersby.

The alien prisoners, fuscia or lime green scalp crests flaring, bared pointed teeth and grunted a feral snarl at the youngsters. However it soon became quite clear that most of the refuse was being hurled at the furless strangers.

John and Don managed to avoid the first few pungent and maggot-ridden pieces that flew their way. From behind them they heard Smith grunt in disgust and spit as something evidently caught him broadside on the head. The girls began to whimper as they lost their last bit of energy trying to dodge the missiles. Before having completed the short gauntlet they were all covered in garbage.

"I shall never survive this!" Smith murmured, trying to spit out the foul taste of some rotten vegetable. "Professor, you simply must do something before we board that vessel. I fear that any further compliance on our part will trap us on board with no recourse but to sail along to whatever God-forsaken destination they have in mind."

"Shut up Smith," Don said, mustering a growl. "You keep this up and they might decide to make fish food out of you."

Smith blanched at the thought, his healthy tan fading to a sickly white. "Oh woe, to never see our blessed Jupiter 2 again! I can't bear this. To think I couldn't wait to land a day ago! And now, how I wish we were back in space!" His voice rose an octave as he finished his tirade. He was rewarded with a kiss from the lash. Rewarding the guard with a howl, Smith tried to jump sideways. The creature next to him shoved the doctor back in line, snapping viciously with those awful teeth to display his displeasure.

As the beings all lined up before the gangplank, Don leaned over to John and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "You know, I am beginning to wish we could use Smith as a diversion!"

"If he'd gotten us into this I'd have been tempted," John replied very quietly, with a slight gleam of humor in his eyes. Then his voice rose slightly in volume. "But in either case I couldn't bring myself to do it. And at this point it no longer matters. We're getting on that ship whether we like it or not. I just wish I were more of a mariner at heart. No matter what happens we need to figure out some way to return to this general vicinity."

"This planet is obviously pre-industrial in development Major," Smith snapped irritably, then cringed slightly at the sudden burst of metallic clanging resounding somewhere up on the deck. "A return voyage, either by land or sea, could take weeks or months depending on how far they take us."

"The vessel doesn't look big enough for a long voyage," Don sneered back. "I doubt it will take us weeks to get where we are headed."

Smith sighed suddenly. "The ship's inability to carry an abundance of supplies does not necessarily determine the length of the voyage. If I remember earth history correctly, many sailing vessels could make extensive journey's hopping from port to port. If an escape route doesn't present itself immediately, we could wind up hundreds of miles away from this village."

At that, the Major could only grunt in affirmation. It wasn't a pleasant thought to acknowledge Smith might have been right and he mentally chastised himself for letting his anger cloud his judgement of the situation. He knew those same facts that Smith had already stated, now that he gave it more consideration.

Within minutes the loud clanking had stopped. "Get on board," Bellowed a scarred and scruffy guard and he added a string of words that, given local dialects, were presumably foul and vulgar. When no one moved, the lash started cracking on unwilling bodies until finally they surrendered and moved up the gangplank.

On either side of the oar banks, a fairly narrow walkway divided the ship in half. All the now subdued aliens were marched along this walkway until yet another guard/warrior gestured with his whip toward one empty bench. Two of the beings took up their position with furtive fearful glances and cringing backs. The process was repeated toward the right of the walkway. Then back a row and so on until they came to the Robinson party. This warrior glared mightily at them. John alone was the only person capable of meeting the creature eye to eye. John glared back in spite of himself. These aliens, he figured, may have been a bit taller than humans but they were spare of flesh. John figured he had the weight advantage but thoughts concerning the protection of his family curtailed any notions of rebellion...for the moment.

Using the butt of his whip, the guard smashed John in the jaw with it. The professor staggered back, more from surprise than from real physical damage, and allowed Don to upright him. He heard Smith shriek with fear as multi-jointed alien fingers locked on the doctor's wrists and dragged him to a bench. John saw him seated beside one of the green-crested, speckle furred prisoners, trying his best to keep his distance in that limited space.

When the guard pointed at the bench behind the doctor, John decided it was pointless to resist any further and took his seat. Don compliantly took the seat beside him, before the aliens could entertain thoughts of separating them. Apparently the beings assumed humans to be of little consequence because they let the event go by without changing seating arrangements.

When all the rows had been filled, the lead guard shoved the remainder of the Robinson party toward the bow of the ship. The three ladies as well as Will gave concerned glances toward John and Don. Robinson gave them a jaunty smile and a nod of reassurance. Maureen's worried expression didn't soften and he knew the effort had failed. But she was strong and far tougher than she looked. He knew she'd protect the rest of the family and somehow or other, manage to keep them from harm if it was humanly within her power to do so.

A stocky guard, who would have been considered fat compared to the physiques of every other alien on the ship, raised a large mallet and whacked it against something resembling a kettle drum. The loud booming reverberated up and down the length of the ship. Once assured he had their attention, he spoke loudly.

"Arms up overhead," he commanded. And every pair of hands rose skyward, except Smith's. He looked around as if he didn't understand the command or had no desire to comply. Seeing an unfurled lash twitching in one furry paw, John shoved Smith from behind. The blow, light as it was, proved sufficient and the Doctor's trembling fingers spiked upward.

Slowly, guards moved up and down the length of the ship, hacking off the bonds with long knives and replacing them with metal manacles, the obvious source of the clanging they'd heard earlier. Once those were secured, chains, attached to the hull were pulled through loops toward the center of the ship and those were also linked by a single thick chain running from front to back. In that way the prisoners were not only chained side by side but with one long chain linking the rows of benches.

Throughout most of the proceedings, John had eyes for little else beside his family, seated, albeit uncomfortably, beneath a large semi-enclosed canopy not far from the bow of the ship. Maureen was consoling Penny, who tried to be brave though the trembling of her lower lip spoke of her fear. Within easy arm reach, Judy was seated on a large crate, throwing concerned glances back at her father and Don interspersed with worried looks at her mother and sister. Despite it all, she was already showing her mother's strength of will, appearing reasonably calm given the difficult circumstance. At his mother's feet, Will was absorbing every sight like a sponge. He was too young to keep focused but too old to be oblivious to their precarious situation. He frowned as Penny whispered something to her mother but made no comment. All in all, John was satisfied. Their years of space travel and working as a team throughout all manner of trials had hardened the family into a single purposeful unit whenever danger struck. They knew their roles under such circumstances and could finally be counted on to 'follow the plan' regardless of whatever adversities they faced in the future.

In front of them Smith was looking all over the place, especially at the alien on his right, who occasionally snarled when he caught Smith's eyes on him. Uncomfortable in general, Smith regarded his chained wrists. The cuffs were heavily rusted but still sturdy. They were broad, thick and definitely too tight around his human wrists. In frustration, he raised his manacles, shaking the chains in the process.

"Not exactly my color," he grumbled, regarding the dried-blood color bands.

"Better get used to it Smith," Don suggested, not hiding a wry note in his tone. "And consider yourself fortunate...because with your track record you could have been wearing these years ago!"

Smith clutched his breast in mock pain. "UH! Slain by your rapier-keen wit!" And he slumped for emphasis until the flick of a whip snapped by his ear. At that moment, he jumped but a sharp pull on the chain by his benchmate rudely dragged him back down.

Don nudged Robinson and gestured with his chin toward the mallet wielding alien. The creature was once more in position in front of his drum.

Don's frustrated murmur couldn't be missed. "Looks like it's show time."

"And the trained gorilla is about to perform. Better brush up on your repertoire major..." Smith's voice oozed with sarcasm and it earned him a quick kick in the calf. Stifling a yelp, because he wouldn't give the West the satisfaction of submission, Smith surreptitiously tried to massage the sting by rubbing his leg against the bottom of the bench. Unfortunately he wasn't THAT flexible and he soon gave up. However, unresigned to maintaining silence, he said through gritted teeth, "Goodness, that was pleasant. I owe you a favor in return!"

"Will the both of you just knock it off for once," muttered John in exasperation. "We are in the middle of God knows where, trapped on this ship, chained like animals, almost too tired to move and even now you can't let up!"

Don said nothing. Smith turned and bestowed a glance of blue-eyed innocence upon Robinson. But John didn't miss the wry glint in those eyes. Robinson wearily shook his head. Where work was concerned, Smith had no strength to do more than lift a fork. Yet, when it came to hurling taunts, his energy proved to be boundless. For once, John wished he could harness that energy and put it to good use. Fueled by Smith's mocking and derisive attitude, he could have powered this entire vessel by himself.

His reveries were broken by the sudden boom of the drum. "Oars ready", the drummer shouted. At least thirty sets of hands reached out for the oars, gripping them tightly.

"Cast off," the leader of the expedition called. And he signaled again. The stocky being hit the drum a second time and instructed, "pull together now!" in a loud voice. They were quick to obey the command, especially when it was punctuated by the staccato crack of whips against flesh. As soon as they were away from the pier. further instructions had only one side pulling while the other group of oars rested. In that way the ship was soon pivoted out of the cove and toward the more open waters.

Once again, he signaled and as a group everyone pulled. Ship and bodies groaned under the initial exertion.

To John and Don's amazement they saw Smith pulling in rhythm with his partner. They glanced at each other and John shrugged.

"Now I hate to say it but watching Smith work is almost worth all this!"

Robinson gave an characteristically Smith-like hike of one eyebrow. He knew West didn't genuinely mean it was worth it. He also recognized that the occasional joke kept them from a state of despair, so he declined to dispute the statement.

And then they saw it. The string-bean thin alien gave Smith what was undoubtedly a nasty look. On the next pull he did the same thing, adding a slight baring of fangs, his muzzle-like nose wrinkling in the process. His lips twitched as if he wanted to restrain himself from an attack. Wispy whiskers twitched in agitation. On the next pull he made a lightening quick flash of his clawed hands toward Smith face. Shrieking in surprise, Smith hurled himself sideways. The Alien's growl grew audible as he gestured to the oar.

"Pull or I swear I will tear your heart out and feed it to you!" He was rewarded with Smith's mixed expression of terror and disgust.

A guard patrolling the walkway heard the exchange and immediately sent the leather whip snaking toward Smith's shoulder. The blow was delivered with more force than usual, just as they were beginning to draw back the oars. A surge of adrenaline, fueled by fear and pain, caused Smith to yank back fiercely on the oar. Both human and alien were caught unawares by the sudden display of strength, and the creature was almost pitched back into Robinson's lap. Then the retreat of the oars jerked him forward, half off his seat. By the time the alien had reseated himself every hair on his body was bristling. Had the next boom of the drum not sounded he would have surely carried out his threat upon the hapless doctor.

Quickly assessing the situation, a guard let the tip of his whip strip some fur and flesh from the creatures arm, reminding him who was in charge. Subdued for the moment, both human and alien began to pull in tandem. As they got farther from land they picked up a weak current . The drummer was settling into a slightly slower cadence. Not enough to relax but at least they were able to catch their breaths.

Suddenly Smith moaned, "My back is a disaster area! I must have rest, I tell you. Rest!"

The nearest guard, not understanding a word of it, rewarded the comment with another lick of the lash. Smith remained silent for a few minutes before starting in again, though his voice didn't travel far enough to catch unwanted attention. "I'm getting blisters upon blisters," and in the brief respite between rows, he was able to open his hands palm up long enough to show Robinson and West the large, red, fluid filled welts already forming on his hands. He moaned as he pondered the condition of his hands in a few hours. "My hands simply aren't conditioned for this type of strenuous activity!"

"You know Smith," Don whispered loudly from behind him. "For once in your life, you've said something that's the truth."

"Bah!" Smith called loudly, then cowered as if expecting a blow. Fortunately for him the nearest guard was preoccupied with another recalcitrant prisoner.

"Major, if they don't give me something to protect them, I'll have nothing left but the metacarpals! I assure you, if they leave me with nothing but stumps on the end of my arms I will be useless to you once we get back to the ship."

"So what else is new!" retorted Don with a slight smile. "Quit complaining Smith, we are all going to be blistered by the end of the day. Be a man for once and shut up about it."

Smith shot him an odd look as soon as the opportunity presented itself. "You realize that if the infection doesn't get us, the heat surely will."

"We're aware of that doctor," Robinson assured him.

"Fit or otherwise, this kind of activity is terribly hard on a man my age. I am really not up to this." Smith added for emphasis. Or perhaps he was doing it for the sympathy factor. John couldn't exactly tell which. Don, however, took it at face value.

"Be still my heart," muttered Don loud enough for Smith and John to hear it, "Two truthful comments in one day. Anymore of this and the shock will give me a coronary right now.

"At least you'd be free of this odious burden," Smith murmured morosely. "And liberated from the perpetual stench of these bipedal hairballs," he added, once again displaying his penchant for hurling insults in even the most inappropriate of circumstances.

A black band flashed toward him, eliciting a shriek.

When the guard had passed, Don sputtered, "Smith, if there's one unwavering fact that I can say about you, it's that you don't know when to shut up!"

Giving a squirrelly look at the back of the whip wielding warrior, he hissed back, "Just you wait, Major..." and left the comment hanging as he grunted and pulled at the oar yet another time.

An hour passed, then two. Though the drummer had giving them periodic breaks in speed, he never completely let up. Smith moaned piteously when his blisters began to break. Sweat poured down his face in obvious streams. He tried to swipe at it every time his eyes renewed their stinging but the constant motion and the manacles made it difficult.

Consciously, he tried to let up on every other pass of the oars, just enough to give him some respite but not enough to alert his benchmate. Through out, he interspersed inane comments with whining complaints.

His parched throat felt like razors shredding their way clear down to his chest. When Judy and Maureen brought respite in the form of a pitcher of water, he was nearly ready to pass out from dehydration. He gulped the ladle full in desperation, not caring one whit that the beast beside him had already sipped from the same implement.

"Bless you child," he said hoarsely. "Can I have another?" His pitiful tone had nearly coerced Judy into giving him seconds but then she caught the leader staring at them and knew his 'one drink per prisoner' command was not to be disobeyed if she valued her skin. Somehow she knew that the beasts would not hesitate to use the lash on her if he thought she deserved it.

With a sad shake of her head, she replied, "Sorry, Doctor Smith. I can't do it or we'll all suffer. I know it doesn't mean much but they'll send me around in another hour or so." With one last worried glance, she continued on to her father and Don.

"Dad, I've heard them talking. They are doing what Doctor Smith suggested. Apparently they are going to go from town to town. All of you will stay on with them until their final destination where you'll be sold to the plesenium mines. I have no idea what that is but it sure doesn't sound pleasant."

Suddenly a loud crack resounded around them and Judy's large blue eyes grew round with shock. She flinched, and pivoted with hands raised to ward off another blow. "Back to work. No talking!" the guard growled as he threatened to use the whip again. Judy didn't need to be told twice and she hurried on with her tasks.

The only thing holding Don in his seat was Joh's downward pressure on the chains. "Not now Don," Robinson advised. "Anger won't get you anywhere and we both know it. "

Slowly, the crimson color of rage faded from Don's handsome face and he nodded in acquiescence. "You're right of course, but I'm gonna take him down for it later!"

"Do that Major, with my blessings," Smith quipped. "In fact, I'm sorely tempted to help you."

"Right Smith. That'll be that day..." but he didn't finish his sentence preferring to save his strength.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

As the sun was reaching it's zenith and the temperatures rose yet higher, all the humans began to suffer. Despite the alien's light furring, they seemed to fare better in the heat. Or perhaps having lived on this world their whole lives, they'd become inured to the discomforts the planet dished out every day. In either case, Smith was seriously flagging. He continued to ease up on every stroke until it finally did become obvious to his partner. Without warning, the alien bared his fangs in a feral grin and elbowed Smith hard enough to send the wind whooshing from his lungs.

Smith glared at the alien. "You hairy homunculus. If that tiny cranium holds anything other than pea soup you'd be better served trying to figure out an escape plan rather than wasting energy assaulting me!"

The beast glared back, not understanding human speech perhaps, but clearly understanding the intent behind the words. Less than a second later, he elbowed the Doctor's ribs, twice as hard. If they hadn't been rowing, Don knew Smith would have already doubled over from that blow but there was no spare moment to fall down on the job. Instead, the Doctor moaned with every pull. And his benchmate, wise to his tricks, sent a few more quick shots whenever he felt Smith wasn't pulling his weight.

After the third water break, Don was beginning to wonder how he was going to survive this himself. Everything in his body was aching. Like Smith his hands had begun to blister from the unusual work and they felt like someone was torching them with each pull of the oar.

Don had one advantage. Unlike the doctor, he had shed his tunic long ago and he was keeping cooler without it, though the sun's blaze was beginning to fry his skin right through the t-shirt.

Now that foolish decision on Smith's part...to maintain decorum at all times...had cost him. Overwhelmed by the heat and lack of fluids, he finally succumbed, collapsing across the oars.

"Smith!" Don and John shouted in unison, fearing that an injured or ill prisoner would likely become fishbait. Their repetition of his name brought forth no results and the alien beside him called out to one warrior. Meanwhile he had raised that oar out of the water to keep it from messing up the cadence of the others. Soon, they had freed the doctor from his shackles and were dragging him up onto the walkway.

Risking the extreme displeasure of their captors, Judy and Maureen nevertheless dashed toward the small group trying to show by their ministrations and protectiveness that they would see to his care. When the leader flung a finger out to sea, Judy got desperate and calmly walked up to the alien, placing her hands upon his narrow chest, giving him an imploring look she prayed would be a recognizable expression for pleading. Apparently it was. The leader, ran one multi-knuckled finger along her cheek. His hideous teeth were exposed in what could have been a smile though she wasn't certain.

Judy had no idea if they would even want a human female though she was already aware, from the unabashed way they relieved themselves over the side of the ship, that they were humanoid enough to successfully rape her if they wanted to. The revolting thought made her stomach knot up, but she swore to keep out of his reach if that were possible. But first, she had more important matters to attend to.

With another guard's help, they dragged Smith's still unconscious form to the canopy and beneath the cooler shade therein. Maureen immediately tried to rouse him enough to take water but the doctor was still unresponsive. Will brought over a wet cloth and they put it over his flushed forehead.

"We need to get this tunic off at the very least," Maureen murmured. She thought of pulling it off until she realized it would never get completely off with the manacles still in place. Attracting the attention of another warrior, this one wearing little more than a thong, a knife scabbard and a gaudy metal medallion, she indicated she needed a cutting tool. He appeared reluctant to give it to her, not that she blamed him for mistrusting her given her prisoner status. Trying another tack, she indicated she wanted the Doctor's shirt cut. Flicking his hands in what appeared to their equivalent of a shrug, he pulled the knife and knelt down beside the prostrate doctor.

"Hope he doesn't misunderstand and kill poor Doctor Smith," Penny whispered to Will.

"Watch his hands. If he does anything threatening...you take his legs and I'll shove him down." supplied Will.

"Oh that's smart," Penny snorted and tossed a derisive stare in Will's direction. "And then what? You'll grab the knife and afterward we'll take on the whole ship?"

Will's retort was cut short but the sound of material ripping as the alien deftly parted the material up Smith's front until the collar parted, then down each sleeve. The remnant was tossed aside until Maureen quickly squirreled it behind her. Underneath, Smith's T-shirt stuck to him like a second skin and it smelled nearly as bad as the rotten garbage hurled at them back on the beach.

She used a bit more of the water from the bucket to douse his skin in the hopes of cooling him down. The alien leader, still watching warily from a distance, barked an order. In less than a minute, someone had fetched a bucket with a handle on it. A stout rope was attached to the handle and then the bucket was tossed into the calm waters. When it was withdrawn, the leader strode over with it and tossed the full contents right upon the Doctor.

The surprising cold spray landed on her legs and she nearly jumped. Better than that, it caused Smith to twitch slightly, which was more response than they'd seen from him since his collapse. With a pathetic moan, he tried to sit up, and then his body was wracked by dry heaves and strong, uncontrollable tremors. In moments he once more sank bonelessly onto the deck.

After walking to a small chest to the right of the canopy, the leader then handed her something white and powdery. "Salt," he told her through the translation device. "You get him to take it when he can keep it down. Can't have my property dying before I can sell you all off." And the alien laughed, a high pitched wailing like that of keening bagpipes.

Better than an hour later, and after much soaking with cool water, Smith finally opened bleary eyes and found his head cradled in Judy's lap, with Mrs. Robinson hovering nearby with a ladle ready. As soon as it touched his dry and cracking lips, he tried to drink it greedily, heedless of the effect that course of action would have on his unsettled stomach. "Slowly, not too quickly or you'll get sick again," Maureen advised as she withdrew the water. Taking a wet cloth, she wiped the dark, dirty strands of lank hair away from his face. "Your color is getting better," she observed aloud. "That's a good sign."

"My dear lady, why bother with all this?" he spoke listlessly. "They'll put me back out there until the abuse does me in." She noted that, regardless of his words, he didn't refuse the water or the salt powder when she offered them over to him. That was Smith to the core, she thought to herself, a true survivor no matter how much he whined about his own weaknesses. Gently, she gave his shoulder a few consoling pats and passed along a few tiny morsels to eat. Once assured he could keep them down, she retrieved the torn tunic and shredded it further, into long black strips. Then she mixed some of the seawater left in a nearby pail and added a bit more salt to it. Using one bit of cloth she dabbed the mixture onto his open wounds.

Despite his weakened condition, Smith was not stupid. He didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to himself. Therefore, as the fire in his hands spiraled clear up to his armpits, he bit his lip, and moaned as softly as he could manage.

"Madam," he finally grunted through clenched teeth, " I suspect that with only a tad more practice, you could put the Marquis de Sade out of business."

"Come now Doctor Smith," she said with a half smile. "Let's not be so melodramatic. Salt is the only thing I have to cleanse the wound to prevent infection. Surely you know that."

"Indeed..." Smith grimaced, too tired to argue any farther. Moments later, he had already faded back into a deep sleep.

Taking more of the strips, Maureen rinsed them as thoroughly as she could in seawater, wrung them out and set them above the canopy to dry. Then, she and the rest of her children were given the task of feeding the prisoners. While this was done, others were released in groups to relieve themselves as best they could given the lack of proper waste disposal equipment. The humans, far more uncomfortable with such openness, kept their backs turned as much as possible.

John and Don were both exhausted and she managed to slip them an extra helping of food and water as well as a bit of the salt powder. Too tired to talk, they both nodded gratefully. She also gave them strips of Smith's shirt, not caring if anyone saw that or not. "Use this to wrap around your hands. Maybe it will cut out some of the pain." And then she was gone, moving onto the next 'person'.

Later that afternoon, they picked up a steadily increasing breeze and unfurled the large rectangular sail. Aliens and humans alike cried out in jubilation at the prospect of a rest. Not that the Robinson party could appreciate it as much as they anticipated.

John and Don remained chained to the oars. Maureen and Penny brought back water and hard salted meat that was barely edible for the natives let alone the humans. Don, feeling more adventurous than his companion, tried a piece, chewed it for the next 20 minutes and decided it would be better as bait than as food.

"Unfit for human consumption as Smith would say," Don observed, managing a tight smile.

"Better than nothing," John supplied, ever the pragmatist. He took a tentative bite and began the long arduous task of trying to soften the meat. He never did quite get it juicy enough to swallow and it too found it's way overboard. "Tasty," he muttered as he sent the next well chewed bit hurtling as far as he could manage.

"Not like the food?" A guard scowled petulantly at them. "Good, more for us!"

Realizing they were in trouble, John pointed at his teeth and went through an absurd pantomime to demonstrate that his teeth were insufficient to tear up the food. At first the guard just stared then made that same flicking motion with his hand. He casually strolled down the walkway and disappeared behind the canopy. When he returned, he tossed two large pink knobby balls at them. Deftly catching them, the two men peeled off the outer skin and found juicy, soft, pulpy flesh beneath. Tentatively John touched the tip of his tongue to what was presumably a fruit, and was greeted with that high pitched laughter he'd heard previously from these beings.

"Mmmm, sweet, something like a mango."

Don gave him a worried glance. "I know it's a bit late to point this out, but this is the hard way to find out if something will make us sick or not. I've been okay with the gruel they served earlier but every time we eat something we increase the odds that we'll cross something that doesn't agree with us."

John shrugged fatalistically. "It's either that or starve before we get to the next port. Even with fresh water, we'll never be able to keep up this pace without solid food of some sort." He paused to take another bite, ignoring the thin line of pink juice that ran down his strong jaw. "I think they'll at least see to it that we are fed one way or the other. We must be of some value to them...otherwise they would have killed Smith when he passed out."

"Speaking of which, look at him. In the lap of luxury," Don added through gritted teeth. "Figures! "

John followed his gaze and saw that, figuratively speaking, that was probably a fairly accurate statement for Smith was laying on the deck with his head pillowed in Judy's lap and she was gently stroking his face with a cool cloth. He had a lazy smile on his thin lips and his eyelids were drooping lazily.

"He's gonna pay for this," Don muttered, almost too softly for Robinson to hear. Not that it mattered. John wasn't too happy with the sight either, even if it was innocent enough. Judy had the heart of a saint and would aid anyone in need, even the frequently cantankerous adopted crewmember and troublemaker par excellence named Zachary Smith.

Especially Smith, he was forced to amend his assessment. She'd admitted often enough she felt sorry for him, being the only one unwilling to go on the space voyage. Clearly he wasn't cut out to be an explorer despite his chameleon-like ability to adapt in a heartbeat. And he certainly wasn't above manipulating her feelings either.

"Later," John finally acquiesced. "We've got more important things to worry about. Survival. Escape. Fleeing through a hostile land."

Not bothering to hide the smirk, Don simply stated, "Right." His tone indicated 'later' might arrive sooner than expected.

"I mean it, Don!" John admonished. Don raised his hands in submission but said nothing else.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Under the canopy, where it was noticeably cooler, Smith, the ladies and Will spent the next couple of hours conserving their strength. The Doctor continually dozed for brief snatches of time, often awaking with a start, not relaxing until he realized he was unharmed. He'd repeat the process once again, only to jump and startle himself.

Inspecting his crudely bandaged hands, Maureen seemed satisfied that there was no infection. "Water, Doctor?" she asked when he awoke yet again.

"Thank you, madam. Much appreciated." He swallowed a few sips of the clear tepid fluid and willed his stomach to cease its incessant cramping. "You have no idea what I would give for some Ibuprofen right now. Come to think of it, you have no idea how much I wish we were aboard the Jupiter 2 right now!"

Maureen smiled at the slight slip. Smith almost never included them in his plans. It felt slightly comforting to hear it even if his wish was, as they used to say on Earth, a 'pipe dream' at the moment.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Doctor," she admitted with a hearty sigh. "Unfortunately, as you well know, I don't have our medical kit."

Knowing what was expected of him, Smith moaned loudly, "Oh the pain, the pain of it all!" Then, seeing Will grinning at the familiar routine, he added for effect. "I shall never survive this. You hear? Never!"

Unfortunately for him, the leader was also aware that he was recovering and signaled to a guard who promptly dragged Smith roughly to his feet, shoved him down the walkway and dumped him back beside his previous benchmate. His manacles were re-threaded to the main chain, then he was left to sulk at his predicament.

The alien beside him intentionally avoided looking at him. Instead he lay his head across his arms, which rested above the oar, and attempted to nap.

When the wind died, the sails were tied up and the booming cadence resumed. Everyone knew the routine by then. Even Smith.

The pace was steadily increased until all the oarsmen were sweating and grunting with the effort.

"My back is a disaster area today! " Smith howled yet again to no one in particular but he was wise enough not to shirk his job.

"So what else is new!" Don spat back irritably.

"My head is a disaster area today!" the Doctor added, for a change of pace. Though Don didn't know it, that was the truth. "Oh sadness, oh sorrow. A man of my years, forced to labor like a common criminal!" His voice began to carry but apparently he didn't care. He was going through his verbal paces if for no other reason that to take him mind off the real pain, as nerve endings were screaming at him from ever inch of his body.

Too tired to comment, Don let it slide. But despite his breathlessness, Smith was in rare form.

"I refuse to do this anymore, do you hear?" he shouted at the guard who scowled nastily at him.

Nevertheless, Smith continued to pull at the oar. His T-shirt was once more soaked with sweat and plastered to every curve of body. His tanned complexion was turning ruddy with rising ire.

"Sustenance! I must have nourishment or I'll perish!" The guard turned toward him. Not that Smith cared at that moment. He was on a roll and seemed totally oblivious to the consequences.

His benchmate sharply elbowed the Doctor's ribs and Smith whooshed out his pain before turning an evil eye on his companion.

"Do your worst," he spat at the alien, the sharp edge to his words unmistakable. "All 206 bones in my body are already fractured!"

Another shot to the ribs. Another drag on the wooden oars that never seemed to cease their motion.

Smith faced the alien and stated in his most haughty tones. "Did you know there are 656 muscles in the human body, and right now every last one of them is aching. Not that you care. Whatever passes for gray matter in that thick cranium of yours, is probably too mashed up to realize the predicament we are all in."

The creature didn't know what to make of the speech. Whether from realization that he was being insulted or simply because he was fed up with hearing Smith's voice, he tried another elbow jab to illustrate his dissatisfaction.

At that moment the oars were on their way back toward them and just as the creature aimed that elbow, Smith let loose of the oar and hurled his body as far back as he could without actually landing in Don's lap. The chain drew taut, suddenly yanking the alien forward. The creature whiplashed forward, lost his grip and bashed his forehead on the oar.

"I don't believe it!" John gasped aloud, shocked at the mere sight of the doctor actually lashing out at someone. And he cringed. Because he knew what was coming next. Sure enough it happened.

The creatures green crest bristles flared so far apart that it appeared as if each hair was repelling the other. The virtually non-existent black lips curled upward and those awful fangs seemed to jut forward. His mouth opened and he sprang at the Doctor.

To the human's viewing the scene, they figured Smith was a goner. But to their utter surprise, he lunged forward, practically throwing his body across the oar, thereby dragging whatever loose chain there was with him. Not suspecting this, the alien fell sideways onto the bench, bashing his bony temple against the hard sea-stained wood.

"Smith! Are you crazy?" John shouted trying to intersperse himself between the two combatants, knowing full well who would come out the loser in this contest.

"Insane, Professor. Stark raving mad, loony, cracked, demented, and berserk." And he punctuated the last word with an elbow shot to his opponents nearest eye.

Why the guards had completely ignored the exchange, John couldn't say, except perhaps that they found the scene amusing or interesting. A way to break the monotony perhaps. Clearly they knew when it was time to step in and they chose that moment to do so, with several whips hissing and cracking against unprotected skin. Alien and human rounded on the guards, both too incensed to really ponder the depth of their danger.

Pushing John and Don back, two guards got between Smith and his benchmate and physically yanked them apart as far as the chains would allow. The leader, grumbled loudly under his breath. The words emanating from the translator's interpreted them as innocuous nouns and adjectives but John suspected they were probably the colloquial forms of curse words. He gestured to the alien beside Smith and that being was switched to another seat.

The new companion chained beside him was clearly older and less combative. He probably did think Smith was crazy because he cringed away from him. Ordinarily incredibly pompous, Smith might have played his advantage to the hilt, terrorizing the creature for the sheer thrill of dominating another person more fearful than himself. But Smith's glassy eyes told the story. In those preceding moments, he hadn't been acting purely out of anger or spite but from something far more primitive.

The leader stalked over to him, leaning over, his crest fluttering in agitation. The glazed look faded from the Doctor's eyes. Fear leaped afresh. "Stranger. You are quickly becoming more trouble than you are worth. I thought I could make a huge profit on you all, because a king would pay handsomely for such oddities as yourselves. But if you cause anymore dissention on this vessel, I promise you, your hacked up body will be soon digesting in the belly of 'S'jria'.

Smith's angry ruddiness instantly drained to a sickly pallor and he shrunk in on himself as much as possible while still continuing to pull at the oars. Terrified, he kept his eyes down on his chaffed and bleeding wrists which strained against the manacles.

As soon as the leader was a safe distance away and the guards eyes weren't upon them, Don heard Smith hiss, "Major, when I suggested a sea cruise for our next vacation, this was most definitely NOT what I meant!

"Shut up!" Don and Robinson said in unison and to their surprise Smith did just that.

That night, all the prisoners were allowed to eat then sleep, chained in place, released only to answer the call of nature. Heads cradled on arms covering the oars, most of them collapsed into the stuporous sleep of total exhaustion. Smith snored softly and trembled from time to time as if reliving the days events in his nightmares. Don tried to kick him under the bench to make him quiet up but all he succeeded in doing was barking his shins on the bench. The jolt did stir the Doctor but only for a moment.

Soon the other two men realized that Smith's noises were definitely preferable to the rasping, rhythmic snorts of the other sleeping members of the ship. Sleep elusively evaded them for a couple of hours before they too dropped into a nearly comatose state.

The next day brought overcast skies and more of the same arduous, routine tasks. Water, a light meal of hard biscuits, the meat jerky and some fruit were brought to them all by the women and then the drums began their seemingly endless cadence. Within a few hours, the sun was already hotter than the day before. Smith's strength was clearly flagging. Every muscle in his body was swollen from unaccustomed exertion and periodic cramping. John could see the signs of suffering. Hunched shoulders and narrowed eyes. The clenching of jaw muscles reflecting each fresh spasm of pain as it flared out from every part of his body, the tight lipped stoicism, because complaining would do no good. Robinson recognized them only too well because, as strong as he was, he too was feeling the effects of this torturous trip.

The Doctor didn't waste his breath for foolish chatter. The heat was getting to him again and he knew his brain was going to be permanently damaged if he succumbed to another bout of heat prostration so soon after the first. Within the first twenty four hours, he had picked up two words. The first was 'water'. The second 'food'. He knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that they'd give him something to eat but hope sprang eternal about the water issue. Desperate enough to accept a whack of the whip if it earned him a ladle of water, he called out the word.

The nearer guard, scar-face, gave him an irked look but surprisingly, relayed the request. The leader gestured from the bow of the ship. Smith's heart began to beat in anticipation as well as relief.

The water arrived alright...in a huge deluge of freezing cold seawater, raining down on his body. As soon as it stopped, he glanced over his shoulder and saw a hugely grinning guard with a bucket in hand.

"Well, at least I can keep cooler this way," he reasoned to himself, trying to find some good out of the situation.

Apparently the aliens thought this was prank was hilarious, as well as beneficial to this pitifully weak human, so they proceeding to douse him with a bucket full of water about once every half an hour or so. Sometimes it was the sneak attack and at other times they'd march over and with much fanfare, they'd slow upend it over his head in a slow stream.

Looking like a filthy, bedraggled cat, Smith bore this stoically, reminding himself that at least he was the only one not ready to drop from the heat and humidity. From sheer fatigue yes, but not from the heat. Besides, that, the leader had determined that the humans were not as adaptable to this form of work without more frequent water breaks so he allowed Judy or Maureen to attend to that need. In this manner they staved off dehydration and managed to refortify their stamina somewhat.

When a stiff wind kicked up, the sails were unfurled and the crew was allowed a respite from their labors. West and Robinson stretched their incredibly stiff muscles, not bothering to hide the groans of discomfort. Smith, however, hunched over the oars, in seemingly somnolent repose. Booting the seat, they got the Doctor to stir briefly, long enough for him to grumble, "These lodgings are deplorable and the ghastly cuisine would make a billy goat ill. I really must lodge a formal complaint with the management when we land."

"You just do that," Don said, shaking his head and smirking.

"Same old Smith," added John in a whisper, for once not minding the comments because, given the circumstances, that critical spirit was actually encouraging news. The truth was that he had no desire to drag an emotionally broken man through the forest during their escape... provided that opportunity presented itself, he amended morosely.

He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice the low murmuring of many voices around him. In fact, he didn't hear them until the pitch of those voices became more strident. He turned to look at them...and found many orange eyes gazing fearfully skyward. It was then that he noticed the dark wall ahead of them, on the horizon. A storm, he surmised. And judging from the alien's reactions, this wasn't going to be pleasant for anyone.

The sails were trimmed immediately upon the leader's command and anything loose was dragged to a small hatch leading below deck.

In what seemed like minutes, though it was more likely an hour, the storm bore down on them with the ferocity of a herd of stampeding rhinos. Lightning highlighted the rolling clouds in flashes of glowing amber. Thunder vibrated through the stout wood of the vessel. Waves crested and crashed over the heads of guards and prisoners alike. Many of the stalwart, feisty prisoners were reduced to trembling masses of quivering flesh. They repeatedly cried out their distress and jangled chains that would bind them to the ship should it go down.

The vessel rose and plunged with each mounting wave. More water deluged them, clawing at them from below, trying to embrace the tiny ship to it's deep dark bosom. Maureen, Judy, Penny and Will had disappeared below, pushed there by the anxious guards. Some of the guards lashed themselves to the railings or the mast to keep from being swept overboard into the heaving seas.

White foam, tiny pinpricks of moisture, sailed through the air, assailing them with unexpected velocity. The ship pitched and yawed, almost capsizing on numerous occasions as the intensity of the storm escalated. Too tired and frightened to waste breath on screaming, the aliens clung to their oars as if the sheer power of that embrace would help keep them all afloat.

Smith was the first member of the Jupiter 2 crew beset by seasickness, though his human companions weren't far behind. Between bouts of sickness, they focused sharply on the swells of the waves, preparing to take that all important deep breath before the next wave smashed them down. Again and again, lightning blazed through the roiling clouds. Sheet rain pelted them like shards of ice.

From in front of them Don heard a rich but slightly off key baritone voice, singing... "Momma said there'd be days like this, there'd be days like this my Momma said, Momma said, Momma said..." and it was cut off as another bout of retching wracked the doctor's body.

The two men glanced at one another, wondering if Smith had finally cracked or if, in his unpredictable fashion, he was bolstering up his nearly nonexistent bravery through jaunty humor.

"Smith!" John howled above the screeching wind. "You okay?"

The Doctor's answer came drifting faintly back to them...the chorus of "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head".

"Oh brother!" muttered Don, before he too felt his stomach rising into his mouth.

"I'm so dizzy. My head is spinnin'. Like a whirlpool it never ends. And it's you girl makin' it spin. You're makin' me dizzy..."

John was tempted to command Smith to shut up, but instead, he told Don "Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." And so, in the violent clasp of the storm, the three humans hurled their voices skyward, to pierce the heart of nature's assault. The precarious nature of their situation didn't diminish, but below decks the Robinson family occasionally caught distant refrains emanating from human throats and knew, that for the moment at least, their loved ones were still alive.

And then they felt it. The waves weren't rocking them as violently. The rain was slowing to a heavy drizzle. Then far ahead, a slice of yellow sky.

The miserable mass of muscle, bone and sinew had somehow managed to ride out the storm and many of the aliens were quickly thanking whatever gods they believed in for their unexpected luck. Perhaps the sea's embrace might have spared them years of hard laboring under a cruel taskmaster, but at that moment, they, like the humans, were too preoccupied by their good fortune to worry about the future.

As soon as the slashing wind finally died down, the unoccupied crew members set about repairing the damage done by the storm. The Robinson family was ushered from the dark haven and together they restrung the canopy. Dragging out heavy bucket, Will moved from oarsman to oarsman, doling out more of the jerky, while Penny followed along providing the fresh water. After a brief rest, the sail dropped into position and the vessel continued it's journey.

"You all right?" the Major eventually asked a too quiet Smith. Their reluctant stowaway had never acted so strangely before, nor was he inclined to keep silent unless he was sleeping, which certainly wasn't the situation at the moment.

"I? What ever made you think otherwise?"

Don cocked his head slightly and grinned. "Because you definitely fell off the deep end back there. I thought the shock had finally done you in."

Sitting up stiffly, Smith rounded on West with a haughty sneer. "Fiddledy Fie, Major. Did you think I feared our imminent demise for even a second? As I've said numerous times before-"

"-Never fear, Smith is here," West and Robinson finished in perfect sync.

"Too true!" the Doctor replied, jutting out his chin defiantly.

He was answered by an awful rendition of Don signing another oldie, carefully rephrased of course. "I am Smith, hear me roar. A blowhard too big to ignore..."

Don was tempted to go on, but the pained expression on Smith's face stopped him cold. Clapping him on the back, West finally admitted, "Okay. Your little trick kept us from giving up, I'll give you that much."

Later on, William returned bearing chunks of something that looked like pre-digested meat, and smelled like the food remnants still splattered across the deck. He gingerly handed it out to his father, Don and Smith. John, taking one good whiff, wrinkled his nose and inquired. "What is it?"

"The translator called it 'cheese' but I doubt it," his son replied, rolling his eyes. "I think they consider it a delicacy from the way they talked about it."

Smith didn't bother to hide his skepticism. "And why would we merit such special treatment?"

Leaning closer, as if he didn't want to be overheard, he told his father. "You know that singing you were doing?" As soon as John nodded, he continued. "Well, they think you were chanting to some unknown god and that god must've granted your ... uh..."

"Supplications?" Smith provided the word. When Will gave him a confused blue eyed gaze of query, Smith explained, "Entreaties. Earnest pleas."

"Yeah, I guess that's what they meant." Rolling his large blue eyes. "Can ya believe that? You out there singing those ancient tunes and they think you were working some sorta magic." This time he laughed at the thought of it.

"Ancient indeed," Smith snorted. That crude noise was followed by the growl of his stomach. Tentatively he reached out, breaking off a small chunk of the putrid 'cheese'. "Delicacy, hmm? I suppose if I could keep Zeno's 'usual' down, I can survive this." Despite the brave words, his hands trembled slightly as he guided a bit of it onto his tongue. John and Don instinctively backed up, anticipating a rather violent reaction.

Instead, Smith smiled slightly. "Delicious!" he proclaimed in surprise. Obviously delighted he popped the larger piece into his mouth. "Creamy, sweet. Granted it smells atrocious but the taste...absolutely exquisite. I certainly understand why they consider it a delicacy!" He stretched out a hand for another hunk of white and red bubbled cheese. Will tore one piece off, then gave the remainder of the food to his father and Don.

"Don't enjoy it too much, Smith," Don chastised. "Just because we are being rewarded means nothing. You'll notice they haven't set us free. Hardly honored guests."

Smith stopped mid-chew and pierced West with flashing blue eyes. "Any good treatment is better than none," he philosophized, and swallowed loudly. "Besides, if they think we are 'lucky' or blessed of the gods, they will be more inclined to protect us."

John's reply was cut off by the cry of an alien in the bow of the ship. "Antraca City," he yelled through cupped hands, then pointed forward and slightly to their right. Glancing in that direction, John saw craggy cliffs jutting up in the distance, and beyond that, whitish square protuberances, interspersed with emerald and maroon flora. As they drew closer, the oarsmen received the command to commence rowing. The city grew up before them...though John would have been hard pressed to call it a true city. It was comprised of a long pier, with additional wharves jutting out toward the sea. The single story crude buildings pushed back from the pier, up a slight hill, and outward in several directions.

Pulling a long orange curled horn from a chest, the leader blew out a long mournful resounding note. Seconds later he was rewarded with a similar greeting and suddenly the crew sprang to life, their pronounced crests fluttering with anticipation. Various rough boxes were being hauled up from below deck and stacked up in the center of the ship. Swirled long-haired pelts were tossed into bundles nearby. Other aliens awaited them on the shore and as soon as the vessel drew up alongside one pier, they were tossed two ropes, which they expertly used to tie down the ship. In short order the long chains were rewound, and each prisoner's shorter chain was unlocked. Still manacled, everybody was herded up onto the walkway.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

"Stinks!" Smith observed, looking at the water. "They must dump their refuse right into the water. How disgusting."

Female aliens ran up to the ship, if only out of curiosity. Pointing long fingers, tipped with short ebony claws, gestured at the humans. Obviously they thought humans quite funny to look at because a generalized giggle broke out amongst the group.

"Hey look Smith, your admirers await." Don gestured with a mirthful grin. "Perhaps one of them will buy you. Nah. Never mind. Put you on the slave block and they won't be able to give you away."

"Indeed Major," was the only response West got. Lack of a comeback forced Don to study his antagonist more closely. He was greeted with a completely ingenuous expression. Shrugging it off to one of the Doctor's many moods, Don got into line beside John. As the prisoners were herded down the gangplank, a small ruckus among two angry oarsmen caused the gangway to bounce. Guards rushed into the fray, trying to pull the biting clawing beings apart.

Suddenly Don was jostled from the side and, with a yelp of surprise, found himself plunged headfirst into the murky, filthy, stinking water. When he surfaced, he spat the foul smelling sewage from his mouth, while flailing to get a grip on the slimy wood supporting the pier. Long, lanky limbs stretched out to drag him back onto dry ground. There were clearly not enough limbs, and the leader ordered more of his men to help. They flopped the sopping wet and stinking Major onto the wharf as if he were a huge fish. He was covered in odoriferous sludge, bits of dead-sea creatures, rotten vegetables and other things too disgusting to label.

Chuckling with pleasure, Smith leaned in to get a close look. "Major, I do believe we've discovered your true calling...dumpster diving."

Still hacking and retching, West fixed upon Smith a superheated glare that would have caused the Doctor to spontaneously combust, had that been possible. "You... you..." he sputtered, too outraged to think coherently. "...did this!"

"Not I Major. It was your clumsy feet that landed you in the drink."

"With a little help from my...friends," West continued to accuse, spitting out the last word as if it were utterly distasteful.

Smith gave him an irritating smirk. "What else are friends for, my dear Don. However, in this case you accomplished this feat of aerial acrobatics all on your own."

There was a brief blaze of mocking laughter in Smith's eyes, which he quickly stifled, but it was enough to confirm West's initial suspicions. Don got unsteadily to his feet and made as if to lunge at the man who had been causing all this misery. Uncharacteristically, Smith stood his ground. Before the guards could get there with whips cracking, John, hastily stepped between the Jupiter 2 pilot and the irate prankster.

"Enough!" he shouted. "Can't you two stop this nonsense for even a second? Smith can't help himself Don. But I expect more from you. So let it go and stay out of his way."

After a few seconds thought, Don threw up his reeking hands in surrender. John didn't need to parent both of them, as well as his own family. He had far too many other things to worry about. But West tucked the event in the back of his mind, hoping that he could return 'favor' for 'favor' somewhere along the line.

Besides, John had strategically maintained his position between victim and perpetrator in order to keep their captors from murdering both men in a fit of frustration.

Unfortunately the doctor was in rare form. Before the group had exited the long wharf, Smith spread his arms, threw his chest forward like any good sun worshipping beach bum, and bellowed out in fine voice, "Here comes the sun…"

Bristling crests began to twitch and John heard snarls rumbling deep within chests. It was one thing to listen to that horrible sound when in the midst of a screaming storm and churning ocean, when one was too busy trying to survive to pay much attention to one bad singer; however, it was quite another matter to be forced to endure it when overly sensitive ears had no threat more pressing to distract them.

"Shut up, Smith!" John warned for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Deep down he was cringing. It wasn't like the doctor to laugh in the face of danger. Worse yet, it was unlike him to sing the oldies. That in itself was worrying the leader of the Jupiter 2. He reached out to nudge Smith as the doctor drew in another breath. "I mean it!"

"Don't be such a sour puss, my dear professor. I do believe I am in rare voice today. And look," he added, pointing at the bright sun. "at least it stopped raining, therefore, we have something to count our blessings for."

Behind him, John heard West mutter, "Oh boy." He made a surreptitious wave of one hand behind his back to cut short any further comments.

With a laugh, Smith slid into another golden oldie, "Sunny! Yesterday my life was filled with rain…"

"Smith!" yelled Don and John. For one of the few times in his life, John wanted to actually pound the doctor into a mound of jelly. And from the looks of their captors and fellow slaves, most of them would have eagerly added a few shots of their own for good measure.

"Don't like that one?" Smith asked in an ingenuous tone sprinkled with a hint of humor, then added in the New York accent of his youth, "Sheesh, critics, can't please 'em' no mattah what ya do!".

Just as the group was about to pass the transition from wooden wharf to thickly planked dock, the doctor had to give it one final try. Throwing all caution to the wind, he burst into a quick refrain of "It's a Beautiful Morning!" Unfortunately, he didn't get very far when one of the guards snagged him by the material of his T-shirt and lifted.

Strung up by his own shirt, Smith's blue eyes bugged out, twice their normal size, and he tried, ineffectually, to pry the guard's hands from his clothing before he passed out. Snarls and growls and crude calls of encouragement egged the guard on. Even the prisoners were fed up, looking for a moment's quiet or, failing that, a lynching.

With Smith still dangling with his feet a foot off the planking, the guard made a move toward the shallow, stinking, murky, miasma of muck, dead fish, and other nameless forms of offal.

Despite himself, West began howling, "Do it! Do it!"

John was in agreement but didn't relish the thought of being caught between two disgustingly stinky human beings…one was quite bad enough, two would be insufferable. Not that he was going to admit as much to his friend and Jupiter 2 copilot.

If Smith hadn't been garroted by his own clothing at the moment, he would doubtless have been shrieking and pleading for help. No one doubted he was instantly sorry for the impulsive, devil may care attitude of a few moments past, but he was clearly in no position to ask for forgiveness or anything else.

And then John saw it, the hand grasping the nearly unconscious miscreant began to lower to the dock. John heaved a sigh of relief. 'Saved again,' he thought, then let a silent laugh whirl through his mind.. 'That man has more lives than ten cats!'

The tips of brown boots just touched the wharf, when Smith took in a huge, rasping, gasp of air. Chest still heaving, he bestowed a haughty, mocking look upon the guard, a look that his antagonist didn't miss or mistake.

In the next instant, Smith discovered that man could fly without wings, at least for a few yards. He had time for one anguished shriek before he drew in a massive breath and, already nauseated by the stench, belly flopped into the slime.

Feeling as he was drowning in sludge, Smith fought the urge to gag, and struggled to bring his head above water. Even when he was certain his mouth and nose were clear of the revolting soup, he dreaded taking that first breath. Splashing and struggling to get his feet under him, he fought breathing until his pulse was pounding in his ears and his lungs were screaming in pain. Unable to contain himself any longer, he parted slimed lips and drew in a deep breath, then instantly regretted it.

Hacking and spitting, eyes watering and nostrils burning from the absolutely revolting odor, Smith staggered toward shore but he didn't get far.

Hunching over, he dry heaved until the distant murmur of laughter penetrated his fogged brain. "You're a SMITH!" he heard his now deceased Aunt Maude berating him as she had during his weaker moments, which truth to tell, was something he heard far too often. "Now act like one!"

"Right!" he thought, as he began to slog through the mushy stew toward the wharf pylons. Nevertheless, his overabundant pride, false or otherwise, prompted him to bite the bullet. He reigned in his surging stomach with a concerted effort and stiffened his spine.

Like a character in a comedy movie, he waded toward land with a few unexpected slips thrown in for a change of pace.

The irksome stowaway looked like he'd just gone swimming in a cesspool and despite the distance he smelled even worse. It was like every foul smelling bit of flotsam had attached itself to the poor man's hide and the wind was carrying the noxious smell their way.

Though he reeked as badly as Smith did, Don couldn't help but bellow out his laughter. "What goes around, comes around, 'eh Smith?"

"Bah!" Smith predictably bellowed back. The truth was he was too reluctant to say anything else for fear that more slime would work its way into his mouth as he was talking.

Amidst alien guffaws that sounded all too human, the doctor finally dragged his sorry carcass to shore. The guards made may have intended to help him out, but after one or two whiff of pungent Smith, they quickly changed their minds. Waving hands before prominent snouts, the creatures did little more than gesture where they wanted the repugnant humans to go.

Don and Smith were shoved from behind by the blunt end of a pike, pushed to the fore of the group simply because that put them downwind of the others.

In moments, they were walking past a cluster of buildings not too far from the wharf, though upon closer inspection most of the dilapidated structures were abandoned. John suspected their rundown condition had less to do with their past usefulness, and more to do with the odor of the wharf, which, while fading, was still pretty bad.

A few passersby in the outskirts of the town showed bared fangs in a display of humor, but quickly parted when the odious duo got within scenting range, which for this species of alien, was pretty far off.

The farther from the wharf they got, the more abundant and prosperous looking the buildings appeared.

The motley gang of humans and aliens finally reached what appeared to be a small town square, complete with a market area, stalls with other assorted goods such as head coverings, simple jewelry, and clothing for the females. There was also a raised platform in another end of the square and Maureen clutched Judy's hand when she saw it. She'd see that kind of structure often enough in pictures and the occasional movie to know the platform was a slave block of some kind. Raised poles stretched skyward and chains dangled from rings attached to the posts. She prayed that was not going to be their fate. Forget the horror of being displayed like a slab of meat, she feared separation from her family even more. Praying silently that this was not to be their fate anytime soon, she tried to edge closer to her husband.

The guards, however, had different ideas and raised pikes to warn her back.

At the forefront of the group, Don was throwing one pointed verbal jab after another at Smith who, not to be outdone, was more than willing to return the favor.

Growling warnings, their captors tried to shut them up but they were too wrapped up in their heated sparring to hear anything. Finally, the slaves, John and the rest of the Robinson family were shuttled off toward the Northernmost part of the square, while two armed aliens diverted the combatants in another direction.

While Don was angry enough to skin Smith alive if he'd had the knife to do it, he wasn't so ticked off that he didn't notice the course change. They were heading toward a narrow empty side street. They hadn't gone down into the shaded alley more than 20 feet, when he stopped abruptly. He got a mighty jab in the kidney for his efforts.

"OW!" he yelled without restraint. "Cut it out!" It didn't matter what he said. They couldn't understand him and he knew it. But the tone of his voice wasn't lost on them.

Outraged at the brazenness of the prisoner, the guard, with crest bristling wildly, spun the pike sideways and used it like a baseball bat to bean the Jupiter 2's pilot. Don saw it coming and ducked, dropping to his side and kicking out the guards legs from under him.

"That was an idiotic thing to do!" Smith howled a warning. Deep down, he admired West's courage, not that he'd ever admit as much. Yes, he felt Don deserved a thorough thrashing after the way West had just gotten done teasing him. Nevertheless, the pea-brained, hyena-faced monstrosities could just as easily kill Don as humor him. The prospect of them slaughtering the Major did not sit well with Smith. Who would he argue with, or taunt, or insult? The others were far too nice for him to want to really wound them. But Don? Well, he was a different matter entirely. Their verbal battles provided some spice to his dreary existence, helped to alleviate the boredom, or to keep him mentally on his toes. And though he was loathe to admit it, he had grown to respect the man.

Below him, the Major rolled back to his knees and with a wonderfully athletic maneuver, jumped right to his feet. In a blur of motion, Don tried to fake right, and as the alien shifted that way, he whirled left. The old football maneuver worked quite well. He was in the clear. The truth was Don knew someone would stop him as he made a break for it but he was going to take his chances just the same.

"SMITH! RUN!" he shouted as he took off, not bothering to see if the doctor was obeying. There were only two possibilities that would come to fruition. Smith would either bolt as ordered, since that was his natural reaction anyway, or he would cower and promptly pass out from sheer terror. Devious old Doctor Smith was bound to find his way out of trouble if he made a break for it, he always did. And even if he fainted, they were bound to leave him alone. For that reason, while setting his sights on a narrow alley just ahead, Don didn't bother to see what was transpiring behind him.

What he didn't see was a pike's blunt end pivoting around so that the razor sharp edge was angling toward Don's unprotected back. The creatures muzzle twisted back in a grim snarl of triumph. He could hit the center of a target from 50 paces back, and his paces were far wider than that of the humans. Zigzagging or not, the human would go down. Subordinate though he was, he had grown weary of being forced to tolerate these strange creatures. It would be an easy matter to explain that the human had attacked him and he'd simply killed the foul thing in self defense.

Tensing his long lanky muscles, the creature drew his arm back. In one fluid motion he arched his hairy back and uncoiled his whole body to force the spear toward its ultimate destination.

Suddenly he felt the solid, heavy weight of something jolt him, then the buildings appeared to topple sideways and the air whooshed loudly from all four lungs. He saw bursts of light flicker before his eyes as his face crashed onto the hard packed earth.

At that moment, he realized he'd made a crucial error. He'd forgotten the other alien, the one he'd assumed to be too cowardly to attack an insect, let alone a being far taller than himself. Snarling in rage, he struggled back to his wobbly legs and whirled to face his attacker. But there was no one there. The human he thought had attacked him was lying in the dirt, in the same general area he'd been before the trouble had started. And he was out cold. The alien grunted and kicked Smith in the backside. The body moved from the blow but otherwise didn't stir.

Grunting louder, he hurriedly glanced around him. Clearly this foul smelling, perpetually fearful human hadn't taken him on. So who had? A few of the townsfolk passed down the main street but other than that, no one was nearby. Worse still, the other nearly hairless creature had disappeared. Undecided whether to stick with the one prisoner he still had, or go after the escapee, he grew rigid and immobile. Either way he'd lose, and he knew it.

Anger rumbling deep within his long chest, he grabbed the stinking human by the collar of his frayed T-shirt and shook him violently. It was bad enough that he would be chastised for his stupidity. There was no way that he was going to drag the human to his final destination and waste all that energy in the process.

Smith struggled in the creature's insistent grasp, as he was hauled forward, half upright, and about ready to pitch over. The thought passed fleetingly through his mind that he should fight against the indignity of it all, but then again, there were a few potential witnesses moving around and it certainly wasn't in his best interest to blow the image he had labored so hard to create.

It wasn't long before the hirsute beast was shoving him through a narrow door into a small room. It smelled musty, and the walls were dark and stained. A long hose was suspended from the ceiling, clamped tightly shut by a crude metal clip.

For the first time since the fateful voyage on this benighted world began, all thoughts of escape blew out like a candle in a storm. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the hose was for and in his present condition, he didn't care how he got clean, just as long as the blessed event took place in the immediate future.

The creature waved an errant finger at Smith's clothes and pointed to a corner.

Eyeing him warily, Smith took off the T-shirt and hurled it away in disgust. "Bon Voyage and good riddance!" he muttered as the dingy cloth landed with a wet squishy plop. Getting the pants off was another matter. They stuck to his skin for one thing, and essentially had to be peeled off. He finally reached for his underwear and paused.

Though he wasn't quite sure why, he was loathe to completely undress in front of the creature. It wasn't so much the nudity that bothered him. Prudishness had it's place, particularly in front of women like the Robinson females, but the thought that his different overall appearance would draw alien stares bothered him for reasons he couldn't readily explain.

That hesitation cost him. The creature, long used to being almost completely unclad, had no such reservations, and certainly had no care about what was going on the doctor's mind. In frustration, with a move almost too quick for the eye to see, he unfurled one long claw, and sliced right through Smith's underwear like it was butter. Smith howled as a burning line flowed down his hip. Immediately his eyes riveted on the thin crimson line with growing red beads that harshly marred the lily white skin.

In the time it took for Smith to register the shock of that violation, the creature had unclamped the hose and showered the doctor with a surprisingly strong stream of sun warmed water.

Smith turned angry eyes on the beast, who curled back dark lips, to reveal his considerable canines. To show who was boss, the hairy monster flicked the hose upward, blasting Smith in the face with the water.

Sputtering, Smith backed up, and raised his hands in surrender. Getting clean was more important than assuaging his wounded dignity. His time would come…

Quickly, the doctor used his hands and blunt nails to scrape every trace of filth from his body. To tell the truth, it felt wonderful to be so clean after such a long time of wallowing in the dirt of the jungle, the sweat and salt water of the ocean, and the cesspool at the dock.

All too soon, the bliss ended. Reclamping the hose, the guard glanced around the room and grunted. Leaving a naked dripping Smith standing in the center of the room, he strode to the door, peered out and made a 'come hither' gesture. "I need a – " the creature muttered in a low guttural voice, then used a word the translator loosely called 'covering'. "Bring it immediately or you will pay for your lack of speed!"

The poor soul must have gone off at a run, because Smith heard the rapid patter of bare feet on hard ground growing fainter until they disappeared entirely.

For a few minutes, Smith and his captor became involved in staring contest. To his chagrin, the creature did indeed show a distressing interest in the differences between his species and humans. He circled Smith several times, with agonizing slowness.

Smith had to fight the urge to cover himself up with his hands. Instead he met the creature's brightly glittering eyes, and smirking lips with a tight grin. Parting the waves of embarrassment with a determined stare of his own, he waited patiently for the 'covering' to appear.

It didn't take long. The hasty patter of feet returned. Instead of simply taking whatever garment was arriving, the guard stepped back from the brightly lit doorway and gestured inside.

A split second later, one of the female aliens stepped inside, cowering before the tall bulk of the male as she tried to slide past him without making contact. She turned and without thought, stuck a incredibly long, ribbon thin arm in his direction.

As the covering hung suspended from between her elongated fingers, a mutual look of shock raced across both faces. In hers, because she was staring at a naked, ugly, sparsely furred being with eyes the color of a fraltorn flower. And in his, because he realized, with horror, that the item of clothing she was offering him was nothing more than the equivalent of a thong.

The shock wore off instantly as he also realized that he was standing there, in all his 'glory', before a female. He felt a rush of blood setting his face afire, and he was glad that no one aside from the aliens were there to see it.

This time, both hands flew into a strategically protective position, and he backed up to the wall, not caring if he crashed into it or not. He made a backward beeline toward the pile of stinking, filthy clothing.

"Oh woe," he moaned, rolling his eyes in consternation, "the indignity of it all. Forced to choose between humiliation or a stink so foul I can't see straight." As his back brushed the cool wall, he tried to reach down to pick up his pants without removing his hands from their guarding position. It was a losing battle and he knew it.

The female was already beginning to twitter in a high pitched ululating chuckle. She bared white pointed teeth. "What is wrong with this thing?" she asked the guard.

"I have no idea. We found a group of these disgusting creatures wandering in the woods. Blalock thought they might have some value once we get to Petria Port. Personally I think they are more trouble than they are worth."

By that point, Smith managed to get ready to step into his filth-laden pants. In a move, almost too fast to see, the guard stepped around the female, and ripped the offensive clothing out of the doctor's grasp and hurled it outside. With one multijointed finger he gestured toward the thong, and gave Smith a look that clearly indicated he would enjoy beating the doctor to a pulp if he didn't comply.

Moaning piteously, he slipped on the tiny garment, while the female kept up that insane twittering. Mercifully, the guard ordered her to leave, but she only complied after giving one final and full throated laugh.

Once the joke had worn itself out, the guard gestured toward the door. When Smith didn't move, he thrust out those nasty razor sharp nails, and started toward the doctor. At first Smith remained frozen. Then, opening his eyes wide in a look of pure unadulterated fear, he shrieked as if he expected to die any minute, and dodged those weapons before they made contact with his skin.

Seeing that the necessary fear-factor had been achieved, the guard sheathed his claws, and made another hasty grab but Smith, still looking terrified, tried to bolt away again. Then he slipped on the still wet floor. Struggling to regain his balance, he managed to right himself only temporarily. He took another step, arms akimbo, before his feet flew out from under him again.

Grunting in disgust at how clumsy this pink skinned alien was, he made a move to put a stop to the shenanigans. He took one step closer, and suddenly the flat sole of a bare, pink-toed hairless foot slammed right into his nose. Lightening sizzled before his eyes, and then there was total darkness, as he crumpled into a heap onto the wet floor.

Miraculously recovered from his pratfall, Smith strode confidently over to the limp body of the guard, eyeing it with disgust. "You deserved worse, you inept hairball, " he muttered, fighting back the urge to give the beast a parting shot in the ribs for all the abuse he'd been forced to endure.

Instead, he sidled over to the door and cautiously peered out to survey the area. Aside from a few of the dark furred bodies near a distance corner, the coast was clear.

Glancing at the position of the sun, and trying to mentally retrace his way through the town, Smith finally bolted through the door at a dead run. His ruined clothes forgotten in the joy of freedom, he raced around a corner, nearly scared a few females to death, and before they could set up an alarm, he was already around another corner. Moving at a speed startling for a man his age, he retraced his steps back to the point where he'd last seen Major West.

Behind him, he heard a female shrieking a warning. Time was growing short, and in a heartbeat he was dashing toward the dense shrubs and trees at the edge of village. He crashed through the nearest brush, getting sliced by briars, and sharp sticks but adrenaline kept him oblivious to the discomfort. He tripped over a log that he didn't quite successfully hurdle, and crashed into the leaves with a loud whoosh of expelled air.

Growling at his own ineptitude, he hastily regained his feet, and plunged farther into the thick overgrowth, trying to put as much distance from himself and the town as possible.

Springy ferns whipped painfully across exposed skin, and thorns drew long red lines through delicate tissue but he paid them no heed. No one was around to whine to, and that took all the fun out of complaining. Instead, he plowed farther into the dense foliage, pulling ragged breaths deep into straining lungs, as he left any threat of pursuit behind.

Finally, when his pulse rate reached uncomfortable levels, he slowed down, leaned against the golden bole of a willow like tree. It provided some shade and enough coverage for him to hide while catching his breath and collecting his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

First order of the day, he realized, was to find West. Much as he hated to admit it, he needed the Major to come up with a workable rescue plan. Given sufficient time, his fertile and cunning imagination could have devised something, but that would have meant taking on the part of " hero", a role he had no intention of playing. That was West's or Robinson's job, pure and simple.

"Let them bask in all the glory," he muttered somewhat petulantly, wishing just once that he could drop his typical cringing facade long enough to publicly take charge of the situation. Take charge for real. Show that he was more than just a bumbling idiot, or a sniveling coward every minute of every day. But just one slip, one tiny deviation from his carefully crafted persona, and the Robinsons or West might come to doubt his innocence concerning the sabotage of their vessel. As long as he pretended to be totally inept and perpetually fearful, they wouldn't dream of seeing him as any threat. He liked it that way. And he intended to perpetuate that image at all costs, even now when he really needed to act for himself.

And so, without further thought, he slowly crept back toward the village, ears straining for the slightest indication that he was being pursued. Retracing his path, he found where he had left grossly obvious signs of flight. But that wasn't what he was scanning for.

Finally, Smith found it…several broken branches about 20 feet off to the right of his path, then several more farther on, where they finally ended at some sort of plant-choked path. Once more heading away from the village, he followed the winding trail. After about twenty minutes time, the path ended rather abruptly at a small stream.

Groaning at his stiffening muscles, he crouched down low enough to wash his filthy hands in the stream and then scooped up enough water to sample it. Hazardous Food and Water Protocols were meaningless at this point. He desperately needed the fluid in order to avoid dehydration. Carefully he tested it with the tip of his tongue and was rewarded with the cool, crisp, mineral tang of normal spring water. Nevertheless, he cautiously took only a few sips before straightening up. Slowly, he stepped across the stream, to continue looking for signs of West's passage.

Overhead, a brilliant hued half avian, half lizard creature shrieked its displeasure at him. Watching it with a wary eye, Smith looked around for a burrow or nest. If the creature was protecting its young, then he planned on being elsewhere.

Suddenly a branch cracked loudly to his right and an involuntary shriek raced through his lips before he could control it.

"Well, well, fancy meeting you here!" West said nonchalantly, as he parted the broad-leaved bushes before him.

"It's about time you made an appearance, Major," Smith growled in his most haughty tone. "I was growing weary trying to follow your mindless meandering through this jungle!"

West gave him a 'same old Smith' smirk and simply stated, "Okay, you've found me. And now it's time to figure out how to get the others out of the village."

"I'd hoped you would have already pondered that very subject."

"Yes, I had, but with you here that changes things," the Major said, not without a hint of frustration.

"Indeed!" Smith retorted, knowing full well that West was implying that he was a liability rather than an asset.

Unable to let the moment pass, West added, "Smith, you and I both know that you are the personification of Murphy's Law. If you want the truth, I'd just as soon truss you up and leave you here until I'm finished, but I'd be too worried that one of the carnivores hereabouts would eat you, get sick, and I certainly wouldn't want to be blamed for cruelty to animals!"

Smith's spine straightened like a steel rod and his face turned a dangerous crimson color. "How dare you," he sputtered in rage, wishing now that he had gone after the Robinsons himself and left West to rot in the jungle. "For your information, Major," he added, putting at much loathing into the title as possible, "I was the one searching for you. At least I wasn't hiding in the bushes!"

West shook his head. "Yeah right! I was avoiding pursuit." Abruptly he shut his mouth, wondering why he felt the need to defend himself to this sniveling jellyfish. "Which reminds me…the last time I saw you was just before I made a break for it."

Suddenly he started to laugh and pointed at Smith's lone piece of apparel as if noticing it for the first time. "And at the moment I'm certainly seeing more of you than I ever wanted to see!"

"You're just jealous!" Smith stated calmly, folding his arms defensively across his chest.

"Not hardly," West giggled at the sight of a discomfited and nearly naked Smith. When he had recovered sufficient breath to continue, he asked, "So what happened to you after I escaped?"

"That foul beast kicked me all the way to the shower." It was a partial lie designed to elicit some pity from West, which was actually like trying to squeeze water from a stone, but he couldn't help himself.

West bestowed a dubious glance his way but said nothing, much to Smith's relief.

"I took the opportunity to clean up, I mean, why should I walk around with that horrible stench, and then they brought me this," he paused long enough to point down to his sole form of covering. "Suffice it to say that I made a convenient escape from there shortly thereafter."

"And what happened to the guard?"

"The clumsy oaf slipped in the shower," Smith explained through upturned lips.

West's raised eyebrows spoke volumes but he wisely didn't argue. "So as soon as he…uh…slipped….you ran away."

"Not away, Major. I headed into the forest in the same place you did." He paused as if dreading his following words. "I…ah…required your services in formulating a rescue plan."

"You need ME?" said West, feigning shock. "Now that admission must have hurt!"

"More than you could possibly imagine," ascertained the doctor flatly. "Nevertheless, even if I could get the rest out of there, which I doubt, they wouldn't have left you here, and so, against my better judgement, I decided to find you. Besides, if anyone should get killed rescuing the Robinsons, I say 'better you than me'!"

"You're all heart, Smith," West said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Quite true!" Smith stated with a smug smile. "And now that we are through exchanging pleasantries, let's get back to the task at hand."

West looked as though he had no interest in letting the verbal battle end there, but decided not to waste his breath in more insults.

"Okay, the way I see it, we need to wait until nightfall. The moon was fairly full last night and we should have enough light to scout around the village. If these sailors are like human seamen, they will be partying somewhere tonight. But they will probably leave at least one or two guards to keep watch over the prisoners. Those are the guys we need to locate. If we are lucky, we will find everyone in some sort of stockade area. Then we'll try to see if John and the rest are together before we take out the guards."

Smith's wide-eyed expression of doubt spoke volumes. "We?"

"You betcha," West grinned at the dismayed doctor. "Well, you have a choice, either you play decoy, and I'll hit him. Or I'll play decoy and you hit him. Which one would you prefer?"

"First of all, I'd much prefer if you would do the honors all around, but if I must chose one, then I suppose I'd much rather be the decoy."

"Yeah, I agree. You sure are good at running like heck."

"Well, hardee har har," Smith twanged. "Your tasteless sense of humor is only matched by your stupidity." Before West could make a suitable come-back, the doctor added, "Have you given any thought as to what we will do if there is more than one guard? And what we'll do if they aren't in some obvious place like a stockade? For instance, just because a guard is posted in front of a building, that doesn't necessarily mean our stalwart companions are contained therein."

"Quite true, Doctor, and if you have any better suggestions, I'm open to discussing them."

Sighing, Smith decided not to argue further. He desperately needed a few hours of sleep before attempting anything foolish. "Have it your way, Major. Scout first, bash heads later. But first, I suggest we get some shut-eye so we will be alert later on."

Absentmindedly, he scratched at some of the cuts created during his flight through the brambles. "With the way my luck has been running lately, this will turn out to be the alien equivalent of poison ivy!" He muttered as he scratched.

"Try going down to the stream and rinsing the resins off your skin," Don suggested, then smiled smugly at Smith's pruney expression.

"Of course, Doctor West, anything you say, sir!" Smith replied curtly, but he did make his way to the stream just the same. Using the sand from the bottom of the stream, he lightly scrubbed his exposed skin as much as he was able, and found that he did indeed feel a bit better. Silently, he muttered a few choice words aimed at Don just for the sheer joy of venting his frustrations on someone other than himself.

"Now there's a truly terrifying sight," Don's voice echoed down the shallow ravine.

Smith stiffened. "You just wish you had a physique like this Major!"

Don gave him an evil chuckle. "Yeah, maybe like when I'm a hundred and ten, I would."

"West," Smith said with a deadpan expression, "Bite me!" Without waiting for the nasty comeback he was sure would come, he headed immediately back to camp. With a loud groan, Smith finally sank back onto a thick patch of moss and immediately closed his eyes without waiting to see if Don was following him.

Without even realizing it, he dozed off almost immediately into a sound and dreamless sleep.

By the time the Major woke him up, rather roughly if the truth be told, Smith felt rested enough to take over the watch.

As Don settled down into the still-warm spot that Smith had just vacated, he cautioned, "Fall asleep, and if we survive the night, I'll kill you myself."

"And you think I take that threat seriously? Please, Major, your are really growing quite tedious. But, in any case, rest assured I shall not doze."

Don stared intently at Smith and debated contradicting the doctor's assurances. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. It didn't work. He kept thinking about desperately he needed the rest, yet he was certain that Smith would fall asleep, and in short order, they would be pounced on by either a band of aliens or some hungry forest denizen. Consequently, sleep came more slowly but ultimately he surrendered to its persistent call.

When he awoke, it wasn't a slow return to consciousness. Instead, it was a leap to instant, skin-prickling awareness. A firm hand was clamped over his mouth. He thought about struggling but worried about a spear tip entering his ribs if the aliens felt threatened. As his eyes adjusted to the moonlight, he noticed it was Smith hovering over him, a pointer finger pressed to his lips.

Once Smith was certain that West would remain quiet, he removed his hand from Don's mouth. Ever patient for a chance to needle the Major, he promptly wiped his hand off on his thigh, but declined to speak until a minute had passed.

"We are about to have visitors," he finally said in a voice not above a whisper.

When Don responded, he spoke no louder. "The aliens?"

"Them or perhaps others from the village. They were down by the gully, and are drawing nearer, though I am uncertain if they are searching for us, or if they are about for some other devious purpose."

"How long?" he asked, straining to hear whatever had alerted Smith to the problem. Finally, faintly, he heard some distant rustling of brush, and a grunt of pain as a brush snapped, presumably into someone's exposed skin.

"I don't understand."

"How long have they been coming this way?"

Smith shrugged enough for it to be visible in the moonlight. "Uncertain. I have been hearing them for perhaps five minutes. I had hoped they'd bypass our hiding place but since I'm no longer sure of that, I decided to rouse you from your slumbering state."

Unbidden, a sarcastic comment crept to West's lips but he bit it back down. This may not have been the Smith he was used to, but under the circumstances, he was grateful for the change, no matter how brief it might be.

Carefully, quietly, he got to his feet, and grabbed Smith's upper arm in his strong grip. "This way," he murmured and began to lead the doctor away from the creatures wandering in the woods. After about ten minutes, he veered back toward the village and prayed that the hunters were heading in the opposite direction.

The scant light of a red crescent moon was just barely enough to find their way back to the village. Both men tripped over exposed roots at least half a dozen times, not to mention the number of instances when the hapless stowaway was resoundingly whacked with rebounding tree limbs. Only after Smith let out one particularly loud howl of pain did Don make a mental note to warn the doctor to duck, and then only because he didn't want the 'fool' to warn the enemy of their approach.

Somehow they made it to the perimeter of the town without getting lost or detected. Crouching behind the nearest building, they caught their breath and massaged bruised limbs. And listened. Carefully. Though Don wasn't a praying man, he silently sent out beseeching prayer to the powers that be to assist him in finding the Robinsons before dawn broke or Smith gave their position away. In truth, he was tempted to drop their plan to work as a duo, and tell Smith to wait where he was, but two factors changed his mind.

The first was that he didn't want to risk splitting up. It would do him no good to find the Jupiter 2 crew only to have Smith blow his cover and get recaptured. Had it been up to him, he would gladly have left the man behind, but he also knew the others would never forgive him for it.

Secondly, for once in his life, Smith had been working with him instead of against him. Though he knew it was too good to be true, and certainly too good to last, West sighed and decided he had no choice except to drag Smith along. He heard Smith exhale as if trying to psyche himself up to the task ahead, but he didn't protest when West grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the center of the village.

Ears tuned in to any sound out of the ordinary, they cautiously crept closer to the waterfront. And then they heard it, twittering bird-like laughter off to their right. In unison, two heads turned in that direction, and a second later, with backs plastered to the adobe-like wall of one building, they peered around a corner to see where the sound was coming from.

In the dim light shining from a tiny window, they saw shadows moving inside one small, shack-like structure.

Just as the two men were about to sneak closer, the solitary door opened unexpectedly. West crashed into Smith in his haste to get back behind the wall. Smith, though startled, wisely kept silent.

Once the alien had disappeared, or at least once Don assumed the alien had left the area, the Major peered around the corner. The coast was clear.

They had taken about five steps into the more open street when they heard a muffled scream. The two humans froze instantly, hurriedly gazing around them. Smith's eyes darted around in panic. West, ever the more calm of the two, simply started looking for a way to escape if the sound brought curiosity seekers.

To their amazement nothing stirred. And then the pained cry pierced the silence again, this time sounding distinctly more human.

Without even looking over his shoulder to see if Smith was still there, Don used the dim window light to illuminate a come-along gesture. To his relief he heard another set of feet shuffling along behind him. The low, rapid, raspy breath told him it was still the doctor and not some adversary.

Looking in the window turned out to be more difficult than they imagined. For one thing, it was a bit too high for either man alone. And Don knew Smith would never go for the idea of giving him a lift up. So, reluctantly, he cupped his hands and waited for Smith to place a foot in them.

Smith wasn't at the window for more than three seconds however. He immediately jumped down and hissed in Don's ear.

"We go in there…_Now_!"

The urgency in his tone was not ignored. Don was at the door in a heartbeat. Quietly, he nudged the latch open and swung the door inward, bounding in right behind it.

What he found made him madder than a nest of irate fire ants. One of the creatures, naked except for his crest beads, was atop a still struggling Judy, his multi-jointed fingers clamped securely over her mouth and nose. Judy's eyes were rolling back as precious oxygen was blocked from entering her lungs.

In a fury, born of protectiveness and perhaps a touch of insane jealousy, Don was upon the creature. His dense human muscles, stronger than those of the alien, hurled the creature off the nearly unconscious woman. However, the creature was more agile and quicker than Don. As soon as he freed himself of the Major's grasp, he spun and sent a long limbed arm crashing backward into Don's face.

West staggered at the blow, not even feeling the blood that was beginning to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

Already struggling to a sitting position, Judy was looking for some way to aid West. The guard had placed his spear in the corner but well out of her reach. Instead, she tried to jump on him from behind but he slung her off him as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. She felt her head connect with the wall amidst a dazzling display of lightning behind her eyelids, and a well of blackness threatened to overtake her. With superhuman effort, she fought it off. Regaining her feet, she looked for another way to end the fight quickly before the sounds drew attention.

While Don battled with the guard, Smith hung back. He saw no reason to interfere. The way the two were still going at it, he was likely to get kicked or punched by accident. So he waited. And watched…that is until Don fell in a heap by his side.

Laughing in that awful deep tittering sound, the creature exposed needle fangs at Smith. But the doctor stood rigid and unmoving.

Knowing the older human was absolutely no threat to him, and seeing that the other one was unconscious, the alien simply shut the door, barred it from the inside, and turned his glittering gaze upon the cringing female. As she drew breath to scream, he once again clamped a hand over her mouth and with his free hand slapped her hard enough to make her knees sag.

As her knees hit the dirt, she turned terrified, imploring eyes on Smith but all she could see was him standing in the corner, shaking visibly with terror. Was he just going to stand there and watch her get raped, she wondered, horrified that he would probably do just that rather than risk his neck for any of them.

The creature dragged her back to the lone bench, threw her roughly on it, and got ready to force himself on her. Too dazed and exhausted to put up much of fight any longer, she went limp and prayed that he wouldn't kill her after he was done, if the act itself didn't take her life first.

Dimly, she was aware of a fast-moving shadow overhead, and she imagined it was the guard swooping down to bite her. Instead she heard a loud thud of something very solid hitting bone. For a moment the creature sagged, but as a snarl rumbled up from deep within his chest, he moved off of her, and turned toward his attacker. Judy's heart soared with thanksgiving to Don for once more coming to her protection.

Again, the spear staff flew at the alien who made an attempt to dodge it. The creature's fury reached new heights when he realized he'd grossly underestimated his assailant. But he didn't have time to dwell on it as he watched the blunt end of the weapon arch back at him, giving him no time to close in.

One arm instinctively went up to block the blow. It rebounded painfully off the furred skin, and then he made his move to grab for it but it was no longer there. At that point, he realized he had made another major mistake. He should have called for help. Pride kept him from it then but not any longer. He took a step back, filled his lungs with air, and opened his black lips.

A slithering sound suddenly drew his attention. Instinctively his head spun right to find the female moving up behind him. Growling a curse at allowing himself to be distracted from an armed opponent, he whirled back toward off his attacker and was rewarded with the flat end of the spear haft catching him between the eyes.

Rocking backward, he fought to stay on his feet as his mind cried out for rest from the pain. Feigning dizziness, he made as if to slump down to his knees and was rewarded by the sight of the haft drop toward the floor. Like a pendulum it almost brushed the ground. Enraged beyond reason now, his muscles coiled to spring. All he could thing of was how he was going to rend and tear the human with his teeth. Arms reaching forward, he unleashed his bent limbs, turning himself into a living missile. What he failed to notice in his blind fury was the spear haft angled back toward the wall and wedge against it. In the next instant, a fierce river of molten rock burst through his chest and out his back. Gagging on the blood that bubbled up in his throat as he attempted to cry out, he coughed once, twice, and went limp.

Revolted by the sight of the spear point protruding from her attacker's back, Judy stood paralyzed for several seconds. Then, with blue eyes widened in shock, she stared at Smith, who was still holding the spear gripped in his hands.

The doctor looked at her, revulsion etched deeply on his features. Slack jawed, he gaped at the havoc he had just wrought, and the lifeless body still dangling from the spear tip. He had been so charged with adrenaline that he hadn't even been aware of the weight he was still bearing. Slowly, claw like fingers unfurled. Spear and alien body dropped to the ground with little more than a dull thump. One arm flopped limply across West's back causing the Major to groan and roll over onto his side.

Bombarded by an enormous sense of relief, Judy propelled herself into Smith's body, hugging him for all she was worth. Somehow, thank you's just didn't seem sufficient to say all she was feeling. 'Of all the people to come to my rescue', she thought in disbelief, hugging him tighter. She felt a hand comfortingly pat her back, like a father soothing a frightened child, which, to tell the truth, was exactly how she felt at the moment.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" West, staggering upright, gave Smith an evil glare.

At first, the doctor was tempted to come up with some suggestive comment, for the sheer joy of fanning the tiny spark of jealousy already in West's eyes, but he thought better of it. "Really, Major. Judy is distraught, and well she should be. Don't go looking into it farther than that!" Slowly, he pulled away from the beautiful blond, and gently stroked the flawless satin skin of her cheek. "Feeling better?" he inquired in a soothing tone.

Judy sniffed a bit, sighed and nodded. Then, as if realizing for the first time where she was, and who she was with, she turned to Don, put her head on his chest and let the tears fall.

While still holding his sweetheart protectively, Don nodded at the hirsute body on the floor. "How did that happen?" He didn't bother to keep the incredulous inflection out of his voice. Since he figured Judy wouldn't do it, and he himself was incapacitated, that left only one person and his mind refused to accept that possibility. Nevertheless, he had to ask anyway.

"It was an accident," Smith relied pointedly, as if daring Don to dispute it. "Isn't that right, my dear? You saw it all, didn't you?'

Don frowned, not wanting to accept the evidence of his senses for a single minute, and pointed at the corpse. "Doesn't look like an accident to me." He looked down at the beautiful blond still nestled against him. "Judy?"

"Uh, yeah, I mean, yes. It was an accident. Honest." She turned to look at the Doctor, wondering why he was acting like this. The Smith she knew should have been strutting with pride. And once again, she wondered just who he really was 'underneath it all'.

"Really," Don replied, still not sure who to believe.

Smith shrugged expansively. "Can I help it if he had the misfortune to run directly into the spear as I was picking it up." Seeing that wasn't exactly working, he added. "This monstrosity wasn't too happy with you and I thought he'd use the spear while you were incapacitated. I was going to toss it out the window so he couldn't get it. He charged. And he promptly impaled himself. Looking down at his handwork, he muttered, "In either case; as the quaint colloquial saying puts it, if they found out what we've done, we will be in deep doo doo."

Still looking for confirmation, West glanced down at Judy but, with her cheek crushed to his chest, her expression was unreadable. Smith, however, standing within eyesight of the elder Robinson daughter, didn't miss the wry look she gave him.

Reluctantly disentangling himself from Judy, West extinguished the sole lamp in the room, and went to unbar the door.

"Time to find your parents," he told Judy. "Can you get us to where they are being kept?"

"I-I think so. It was dark when they came to get me. I'm not exactly sure if I could find it quickly, but, I mean, this place isn't all that large so how hard can it be?"

"Do we take the spear?" inquired Smith, bestowing a grimacing nod on the weapon.

"No, leave it." Don answered as he moved toward the door. "More trouble than it's worth. I'm not that familiar with using it, and if I carry it and we are discovered, they will quickly attack if I'm armed. Now if you want to take that risk, be my guest."

"I? Not a chance, Major. In this instance, I am in full agreement."

After a quick moment of surveillance, Don deemed it safe to exit. The trio slunk away into another dark alley, pursuing their course toward the beach. Nearer the rank smelling water, but still nestled in an alley between buildings, Judy took Don's strong hand in hers and led him toward the dim dark outline of what looked like a tall fence, just past the last structure.

"Stockade?" he whispered.

The answer was barely audible. "Yes. They were in there when I was led out. Dad tried to stop them and the two guards whacked him pretty hard."

"What about the other prisoners?"

"I don't know. Several guards came and took them away. That's when they took me too, but they didn't bring me to the same place."

Still speaking in a whisper, Don said, "Okay. Time for Plan A, Smith. I see a dark outline in the center of the wall. Sentry probably. You count to one hundred. That should give me enough time to circle around, come up from behind the stockade and along the wall. Make some sort of sound to get him coming this way, and I'll jump him."

Smith had the good grace not to do more than sigh and wave his acceptance. As soon as West disappeared from his side, he started counting. Upon reaching the assigned number he made a low 'psst' sound. Ahead of him, the sentry stirred. Smith couldn't quite make him out that well, but he heard the rasp of sandals on sand. Again, he made the sound, louder this time. And the shadowed figure began to loom larger.

The guard hadn't taken more than ten steps away from the safety of the wall, when a large body plowed into him from behind, forcing the air from his lungs with a whoosh. This was followed by the sound of several loud cracks as Don's fists pummeled the guard into an insensate state.

Before she was even certain that the sentry was out of the battle, Judy was already running for the stockade and trying to toss the crossbar aside. Unfortunately, it was too heavy to lift.

"Dr. Smith, don't just stand there…wherever you are," she said with urgency. "Get over here and help me with this!"

From about ten feet behind her, she heard Smith's voice, barely above a whisper. "My dear, with the condition my back is in at the moment, I couldn't lift a piece of paper, let alone that enormous block of wood."

Another voice cut off any further protests, as a shadowy figure joined hers. "Forget it, Smith. I'm here now." Grunting, he pushed the bar clear of the door and yanked them open.

Judy, heedless of the noise she might have been making, dashed inside and by instinct alone, threw herself into her father's embrace. She felt the comforting, warm hands of her mother stroking her shoulder, and she fought the urge to sob. Two smaller shadows stood nearby and in the pale light of the moon she could just about make out the faces of her younger brother and sister.

Before she could do anything further, her father, still holding her tightly against his chest, murmured, "Let's save the greetings for now. Time to put as much distance between us and 'them' as possible."

"Excellent suggestion, Professor. I heartily agree."

"Shut up, Smith," hissed West in warning.

"Really, Major, is this the way you treat the man who assisted in your escape?"

"I'll debate that with you later." And he gave Smith a light shove toward the forest.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Already thinking about paybacks to this latest insult upon his character, Smith smiled to himself but kept his thoughts to hidden. Instead he cautiously entered the wall of foliage, picking his way carefully between the darker shadows that probably represented trees and brush. The hand on his shoulder was presumably Don's, and no doubt, the others were tagging along in a similar fashion.

Not more than five hundred feet, while still wending their way farther from their adversaries, West switched places with Smith. A delicate, slender hand settled warmly onto his bare shoulder, making him shiver at the familiarity of the touch. It wasn't lust that encouraged the feeling, because he had no idea if it was Judy, Maureen, or Penny. What it did do was remind him of his state of undress and the necessity of his remedying the situation before it got light.

The group plunged onward, deeper in the jungle-like hillside, then they angled gradually back toward where they hoped the Jupiter 2 still awaited them. The former search party was making their return journey. The Robinson crew huddled silently, barely daring to breathe, as the group of aliens passed not more than twenty feet away from them. John held them there for an additional ten minutes, then took the lead from Don. Under his skilled leadership and sense of direction, he got them back to the beach, though so far from the village that they couldn't see any trace of it. Walking close to the tree line, the way was smooth, and free of obstacles, yet it presented a quick way to hide if they saw any danger.

As the light started to improve, Smith became the unfortunate object of a considerable number of giggles.

Maureen turned to see what the fuss was and noticed, for the first time, the state of Smith's nearly unclad state. "What happened to you?" she asked as matter-of-factly as she could manage, though the undignified part of her wanted to join in the laughter.

"Don't ask, Madame," he warned pointedly.

Before she could ignore the request, he disappeared into the forest, causing the others to stop. They gave each other a meaningful look and all burst out in laughter.

"He said something about a bath," Don offered when he could finally catch his breath. "I'm just surprised they didn't give him his clothes back the minute he was clean!"

"Don, cut it out!" Judy warned unexpectedly.

"What's gotten into you lately? I still don't understand why you are always defending him, but you've never taken this kind of attitude before."

"Never mind, Don. You wouldn't understand." The truth was that she didn't really understand it herself, especially why Smith would come to her rescue and then not admit to it.

"Try me."

Should she be honest, she wondered. Or just evasive. The latter won out. "Look, it's simple. I am just tired of the continuous trading of insults, that's all. He does it to you because he can't help himself. But that doesn't mean you have to return the 'favor' all the time."

Don raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. For you, I'll try to control myself." He sneaked a kiss when he was sure no one was looking. "But I'm warning you, it won't be easy!"

In spite of herself, Judy laughed for what seemed like the first time in weeks.

John was scanning back along the beach, trying to pierce the morning fog that was rolling in from the sea. His sharp ears heard no unusual sounds aside from the continuous noises of the jungle fauna.

When Smith finally returned, not more than ten minutes later, he was sporting a long vine and a large bundle of broad, long purple leaves. Within minutes, he had crafted a makeshift skirt of closely overlapping leaves, pierced through with a single length of fibrous vine to hold the 'garment' together. Winding the cord around his waist and tying it tightly, he looked down at his handiwork. As expected, it sufficed to cover all exposed areas. Smith finally allowed himself a sigh of relief. 'You look ridiculous,' the little voice in the back of his mind chided. 'Shut up," he curtly responded, then added. "If it was good enough for Adam, it is good enough for me."

Penny's sudden laughter told him he had probably given voice to his last thought. "Whah, Doctor Smith, y'all look Chah-ming," she told him in her best southern drawl.

At that, Will's laughter joined hers. "Yeah, Doctor Smith, you look really sweet."

Hands splayed on broad hips, Smith leveled a piercing glare upon the young lad. "William, mind your manners! Didn't anyone ever teach you it's not polite to make fun of others."

Will's first thought was a recollection of one of his Dad's expressions, that this was a case of the pot calling the kettle black. However, Doctor Smith _was_ his friend, so he simply replied, "Sorry."

Unexpectedly, Smith curtsied in a demure fashion, then, hiking up the leaves like they were the full skirt of a ball gown, he flounced on down the beach leaving them all behind.

By the time the rest of the Jupiter 2 crew caught up to him they were all laughing and winded. John kept them marching along the beach, hour after hour, stopping only long enough to search the forest perimeter for small freshwater springs, and berries identical to the ones they knew were already edible.

Then, after estimating his lead time, and the anticipated ground eating stride of the aliens, he decided it was time to reenter the forest.

Luckily, they had little trouble finding animal paths that led them through the rougher spots. It wasn't until noon that their caution paid off. It wasn't the presence of unusual noises of the jungle that tipped John off. It was the sudden absence of it. The forest denizens weren't used to humans and hadn't considered them a threat, but the stink of hairy alien bodies was recognizable. All the local creatures grew silent and watchful. Using hand gestures, John signaled his concerns and led them closer to the hills.

Everyone knew that the slightest sound would set off an alarm, bringing their pursuers quickly upon them. Even Smith, usually incompetent, somehow managed to prowl along with them, as silent as a cougar tracking prey. All the adults, with the children between them, were careful not to break branches or step on wet ground. They left little for the aliens to track.

Maureen's unvoiced prayers were answered when John finally located a small crevice in a rock wall, large enough to fit all of them if they slid in one at a time. A large bush growing up beside it was cleverly tilted to block the entrance.

The humans, nestled between the cold, damp rock walls, waited out their pursuers. The aliens, never suspecting that they had long since been discovered, went right past the hiding place. And kept on going.

"What do we do now?" Will whispered in a tiny voice.

"We wait until we can't stand it anymore," his father replied, just as softly. He looked back at the group. All he could make out was the occasional sparkle of sunlight reflecting off of their eyes. Maureen and Judy, closet to him, looked exhausted but calm. West was silent, and unbeknownst to John, holding Smith wedged tightly into the farthest, and narrowest part of the crevice.

"Let me out, you knuckleheaded Neanderthal. You know I am claustrophobic!" For good measure, Smith threw in some heavy panicked breaths, as if he were gasping for air.

"Not a chance, Doctor," West replied, a smile noticeable through his tone. "You can't fool me. I know you're not really claustrophobic, and shame on you for pulling this sham."

"Oh sadness, oh sorrow. To have this perfidious pipsqueak intimate that I am a liar is really the insult to end all insults." He threw in a few soft sobs for good measure.

A female voice drifted back, the tone soothing. "Don't worry, Doctor. We'll be out of here as soon as it's safe."

"Thank you for your comforting words, dear lady," Smith called back as loudly as he dared, then faked another sob. In truth, he really did want out of there, but not because of its close confines. For one thing, the rock was making a nasty assault on his unprotected skin every time he shifted. Secondly, and much to his chagrin, West was still in sorry need of a bath.

Never one to pass up a chance to needle West, Smith blurt out, "Major, you are really rank! Would you be so kind as move away, as far as possible, if you please."

"You aren't exactly the freshest right now either," West growled back and suddenly slammed his body into Smith, who was already wedged as far back as his body could go.

Air woofed out of the doctor's lungs. Like any irate child who had just been pushed in a classroom scuffle, Smith retaliated by planting a hand on West's shoulder and, using the rock wall to his right for leverage, he shoved back. West knew it was coming of course, and had tensed up, but he never expected Smith to brace against the back wall, so the force of the impact caught him off guard. Unable to use his legs for better support, he wound up toppling into Judy, who practically fell over Will. The boy then landed hard against Penny, who, in turn, fought a startled shout while bumping against her mother. Maureen, the last in the line to bear the brunt of the assault, somehow managed to keep from colliding with her husband.

John eyebrows met his hairline. "What is this?" he asked incredulously, "A Three Stooges movie?" He peeked through the bush before continuing. "What is it with you two? Can't you play nice for once in your lives? We're running for our lives and you're both acting like two elementary school kids. Don, grow up! Smith, well, you'll never grow up, but at least make the effort for a change, will you?"

There was silence for several seconds, then, from the farthest recess of the crevice he heard, "You'll pay for this, Major!"

John sighed and shook his head. What could he say, except—

Don finished the thought for him, "—Shut up, Smith!" And he waited for the standard replies. When it was not forthcoming, they sighed in relief, and settled in for a long uncomfortable wait.

Just when Maureen thought she wouldn't be able to stand still a moment longer, she felt John's hand clasp hers tightly. Then she heard it, the growling garbled sound of alien speech. Another search party? She wondered, then realized it was coming from the wrong direction.

The group of aliens was bolder and less cautious on their return trek. Clearly, they were giving up the pursuit for the time being. Perhaps it was because they were wandering too far from the village. Or maybe it was because they didn't want to miss the ship taking off without them. In either case, John was overjoyed they had grown weary of the hunt, at least for the time being. One thing was certain, he wasn't going to let this reprieve fool him into dropping his vigilance.

As soon as he was assured the search party was out of earshot, he squeezed through the narrow opening into the marbled patches of sunlight. He inhaled deeply of the fresh flower scented air. Stretching cramped muscles, he arched his spine backward. Finally, he turned and reached for Maureen's arm. She fairly leaped from the entrance to the crevice. Don was right behind the children and Judy, and finally, Smith popped out with an agonizing groan that was an odd mixture of pain and relief.

"Professor, don't ever do this to me again. My muscles have kinks upon kinks and I fear I shall be forced to limp the entire way back to our ship."

"Time for a diet," West cut in. "If you weren't so fat, you would have had more room to move around in."

Smith rounded on West with an angry glare. "I'll have you know, sir, that I have spent years cultivating this physique!

"Then it's time to get out the weed whacker because this physique you're bragging on is in desperate need of further pruning."

Smith's jaw dropped, and he searched for a proper retort, but John saw it coming, and jabbed one forefinger at both men. "Enough! Save it until we are safely onboard the ship."

At first, Robinson thought the doctor was going to disobey the direct order, which certainly wouldn't have been unusual, but this time, he merely smirked and gestured for Don to move past him. Remembering the incident at the waterfront, West gave him a wide berth in passing, which elicited a smug chuckle that rumbled from deep within Smith's chest. Okay, so it wasn't winning the battle, he thought, but at least the last points went to him.

Immeasurably cheered up, he whistled a jaunty tune as he joined the group on their trek back toward the beach.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Being long since accustomed to fending for themselves, the group made good time, stopping only to search for food, water, and safe places to sleep. They traded off on keeping watch, with Smith naturally begging off the assignment with patently bogus excuses. Figuring longer shifts were tolerable it in order to avoid a long string of tall tales, they let everyone else sleep undisturbed. Each day they put more and more space between them and their captors. And each step put them closer and closer to 'home'.

They nearly shouted for joy when they set eyes upon the first village with it's small wharf. Immediately, they faded quietly into the forest. Nor did they stop until they came to what appeared to be a familiar path. John recognized some of the bizarrely shaped trees he'd intentionally noted on their initial march.

"Getting closer," he said to encourage the others.

"Thank God!" Maureen replied with a dazzling smile. "I think that I am going to enjoy being cooped up in there for a while."

John laughed. "For once, I think the Don and the children would agree with you. Even Smith might be content for a few hours."

Joining him in laughter, she nodded her agreement, threw an arm around his waist and hugged him lovingly.

The trail wound back up the hillside, and signs of previous passage were everywhere. When they came to one of the old campsites, Will and Penny waltzed around the clearing. When they made it back to the small meadow where the group had first been taken, they gave an enthusiastic though muffled cheer. Optimism soared. Liberally laced with other joyous expressions, 'Almost home', became one of the most chanted phrases.

John took a moment to scout out the site for no reason other than curiosity. Then, as he passed the blacked pit of the bonfire, he froze. A thin wisp of smoke broke through the blackened coals. Fearing the worst, he placed the palm of his broad hand over the pit, and felt it. Heat. Not just the kind of warmth that came from a long smoldering, deeply buried collection of embers, but definite heat.

"Uh, Don?"

West froze at the tone in his leader's voice. "Yeah?"

"I suggest we move out of here quickly. This fire is recent."

"Oh boy," Don muttered, but didn't waste any time heading on the path that would take them to their ship.

The speed of the group increased as fear fueled them along. John realized he shouldn't have thrown caution to the wind in their haste to escape when he heard Smith, lagging in the rear, let out a surprised shout. When he turned, he saw the familiar furry countenance of an alien trying to put a choke hold on the doctor.

As Don and John raced to his aid, Smith struggled to break free and finally managed to whack his heel into the long shin of his captor. The creature howled at the pain, and released the doctor. As Smith landed on his knees, Don hurdled him and plowed shoulder first, into the alien's chest, knocking them both to the ground. John joined the fracas, punching the muzzled face until alien eyes rolled back, and the body slumped into unconsciousness.

Not waiting a second longer, they each grabbed Smith under the armpits, and dragged him, unprotesting for a change, down the path.

"Hurry, Dad!" Judy called. "I hear something behind us!"

Without breaking stride he glanced over his shoulder. At first he didn't see anything, then much further back, he saw the bobbing of colored beads. Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. Pivoting like a professional quarterback, he waited until all but Don had passed him.

"I'm going back there to see if I can stop him. You get the others safely to the ship."

Don hesitated not more than ten feet away. "You'll need help. There's no telling how many others are out there."

"I only see one at the moment. I'll take care of him, don't worry. Right now, the only thing I care about is getting my family to safety. Just promise that you'll see to it, okay?"

Glancing up once to see the bobbing dyed crest of the alien growing too close for comfort, he nodded in answer, and silently turned to join the others.

It didn't take much to get them all into a sprint through the woods. The path they'd cleared with the machetes was open and obvious, though they had to be careful not to trip over the hacked off branches still littering the path. All of them kept up a considerable pace, even Smith, who was fueled purely by adrenaline. But eventually, the doctor's fuel source petered out and he began to lag behind again.

"Maureen, I don't think you will have trouble following this. I'm going back there to help Smith along."

"Don't worry, Don. I'll be just fine." She allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of her full lips by way of encouragement.

True to his word, the Major stopped by Smith, threw an arm around his shoulder and half dragged the panting man after the rest of the group. This slowed him down but he had promised John that he would get them all back safely and if this was what he had to do to accomplish the vow, then so be it.

At another of the small glades, Maureen and her children waited for the two men to join them. All were exhausted and desperately in need of rest. Smith stood against a tree, gulping in huge lungfuls of air interspersed with fits of coughing and wheezing. Nevertheless, when the brush crackled behind them, they grew as silent and stealthy as lions, blending into the forest perimeter as much as they were able.

Suddenly, Maureen broke the silence, causing the forest denizens to cease their chattering. "John!" she called joyfully, and ran to her husband, pressing her face into his broad chest. "I'm so glad you weren't hurt!"

She heard him chuckle softly. "You know you shouldn't worry about me. That poor creature wasn't as crafty as he thought. I took him down before he knew what hit him. And when he wakes, the only thing he will have to remember us by is a very bad headache."

Turning to the rest of the group he said, "I have no idea if there are any others around here, so I suggest we just keep pushing on. It shouldn't be long now."

True to his word, they found the Jupiter 2 waiting, undisturbed, with the Robot standing at the top of the ramp.

"My sensors are very pleased to see you all again." The Robot intoned, not without feeling. "I was very worried about you when you didn't return."

Will raced to his friend and hugged the rotund metallic silver torso. "It's a long story, Robot, and I'll tell you about it as soon as we are all safely in this ship. I promise."

The robot wound one arm around the boys shoulders and gave him a paternal hug. "I will enjoy hearing all about it, Will Robinson."

Once all were in the Jupiter 2 clearing, Robinson began spouting orders in order to get themselves organized enough for a quick liftoff. Though he doubted any aliens could gain entry to their vessel, he was worried that external guidance equipment would be damage.

Will and Penny dashed past him. Without a single suggestion from their parents, they were already one step ahead of any forthcoming orders.

To John's utter amazement, their ever-scheming stowaway, bent down and scooped up a relatively hefty piece of equipment and began to lug it up the ramp.

"And what do you think you're doing?" John asked incredulously.

"Packing!" Smith snapped irritably. "What does it look like!

"Since when do you show such an interest in helping out?"

"Since I decided this little picnic spot isn't worth a single moment's additional attention." With a haughty jerk of his broad chin, he disappeared into the darkness of the ship. After a few minutes, he reappeared and headed toward more of their gear.

"Smith working?" Don sputtered in shock. "I don't believe it!"

"Bah!" came the retort from behind an elevated and bouncing silver crate. "Don't be a sluggard, Major. Get the lead out, and give us a hand."

Chuckling, West took one of the crates off the wobbling stack. "What's the matter Smith, having a change of heart about lounging on the dock of a ship, sipping piña coladas, and soaking up the rays?"

"Do you know something, Major. The next time my sanity vanishes, and I suggest we all take a pleasure cruise, do me a favor and put me out of my misery _before_ we make planetfall!" With that comment, Smith indelicately dropped the gear by the ramp and headed back for more.

Don turned to Robinson, looked over his shoulder at a hastily packing Smith, and said softly, "If this is going to be the end result, I think we should start planning our next vacation right away!"

With a loud laugh, John slapped West's shoulder, and said with a twinkle in his eye, "Don't worry, I already have something planned."


End file.
